


Departures

by Schattenriss



Series: The Contours of Shadows [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol/Alchol Abuse, Angst and Humor, Awkward Family Visits, Bad Decisions, Explicit Language, Foreshadowing, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Origin Story, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-11 19:09:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 44,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7904269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schattenriss/pseuds/Schattenriss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I always found it amusing that everyone in the Inquisition just assumed I was still a good little Circle mage; only Dorian ever thought to ask me about it." - Kai Trevelyan, The Wrong Sort of Whatever</p><p>Future Inquisitor Kai Trevelyan didn't go straight from the sheltered world of the Ostwick Circle to somehow possessing the skills to step easily into the role of Inquisitor.  Two years before the Conclave, he walked away from the Circle, hoping to make a life for himself. This is the story of what happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Circle

[](https://i.imgur.com/yjmyJy2.png)

“You’re not seriously doing this, are you?”

I stuffed the last of my shirts into the heavy traveling bag I’d appropriated from the supply room. “I am seriously doing this. You should too.”

“What if they come after you?” Tasha said curiously.

“Let them. I don’t give a fuck. If I have to, I’ll move to bloody Tevinter. I’m not coming back here.”

“Kai, they could make you.” She stretched out on my bed, lying on her right side with her head propped in her hand.

I stopped packing long enough to look at her. “They can try. They won't succeed. Anyway, I'd say they’re too busy watching their order fall to pieces these days.”

“Are you going to join the rebellion? I was thinking that might be the safest way to get out and stay out.”

I shook my head. “I don’t want to join the rebellion or any other group. I want to be on my own and I want a life. You know — like everyone else in Thedas gets.”

“What will you do?”

“I don’t know. I’ll figure it out.”

“Lots of people are scared of mages, you know. Especially now.”

I shrugged. “So I won’t let people know I’m a mage.”

“But your staff…”

“You want it? You’re right, it’d be a dead giveaway, so I’m not taking it.”

“You’re not taking it?” She sat back up, grey eyes wide with shock. “But you _have_ to have a staff.”

“Why? I can do magic just fine without one.”

“Because it’s your _staff_ ,” she sputtered. “It’s- We- We _always_ have a staff.”

I smirked at her. “I could make a very juvenile crack about having a perfectly good one in my trousers, you know.”

She threw my pillow at me. “Arse. You’re really going to leave it?”

“Really.” I tossed the pillow back on the bed. “I want out of here. I _need_ out of here. Eighteen years is bloody long enough. Stay if you want, but I think you’re mad if you do.”

Even though she was only a year younger than me, she’d already been in the Circle for years when they dragged me there at thirteen. I assumed that’s why it had never bothered her as much.

She twirled a strand of wheat-coloured hair around her finger. “How are you going to leave?”

“I was thinking out the door would be workable.”

“Very funny. The templars aren’t completely gone yet, you know. They could still try to stop you.”

“I think most of the ones still here just don’t know where else to go, Tash. Besides, I was planning on using the east door.”

She squinted at me. “What makes the east door so special?”

“Ryton Marchant.”

“Who? Why do I not know that name?”

I grinned. “Because he doesn’t flirt with you. He’s the templar on door-duty there and we’ve had a thing going for the last year.”

“Waitaminute — are you telling me you’ve been banging a _templar_?”

I snorted, “Of course not. He’d consider that unprofessional and I am certainly not going to bang a _templar_. But he likes me and what can I say—profession aside, he’s not unattractive. We flirt. Sometimes we’ve gone as far as having a real conversation. It’s at least been a distraction. Hand me that leather case there, would you?”

She handed it to me, saying, “You’re sure he’ll just let you walk out?”

“Mm hm.” I checked to make sure my razor and strop were actually in the case and stowed it in the bag. “He’s very disillusioned with the templars these days. He’s thinking of leaving the order. He's also admitted he can see no reason for me to be locked up in here.”

"Was flirting with him part of your plan to escape?" She said it teasingly, but the look on her face suggested otherwise.

"Yes and no. He started flirting first, but I may have encouraged it a bit more with this in mind."

She grinned. "At least you admit it. Would you still have flirted with him if he _wasn't_ good-looking?"

I thought about that while I reinforced the wards on my leather money pouch. "I don't know. Maybe. Depends on how not-good-looking we're talking and whether I'd ever be expected to follow through. Fortunately I didn't have to go down that path."

“So you also admit that you're shallow and exploitative." 

"Shamelessly." I flashed a rakish smile then looked around the room, trying to find the one thing I’d invariably miss. They’d designed them to appear collegiate, but the rooms fell short. To me, at least, they looked exactly what they were—prettied up prison cells.

"Would he let me through too, do you think?”

“I don’t see why not. You should do it.”

“I really think I might join the rebellion,” she mused. “There are things I’d like to make happen.”

“Well, if anyone could make things happen, it’d be you. Your talents are just as wasted here as mine.”

“If you’re not going to join, where will you go?”

I opened my bureau, checking there was nothing I’d forgotten. “I suppose I’ll just go to Ostwick first; at least I know the area somewhat. After that, I’ll have to play it by ear.”

"You do know out in the real world you're going to need money." She picked up a small porcelain figurine of a large-eared fennec and gave me a questioning look. I indicated _take it_ and she slid it into a pocket.

"I have some.” I waved the money pouch at her and secured it in my bag. “Once it runs out, I'll figure that out too. Get a job or something, I suppose."

She twirled another strand of hair around her finger; I don't know that she was even aware she was doing it. "You've never lived out there as an adult. Aren't you even a little scared?"

"No. I know there's going to be a lot I need to learn and it probably won't be easy, but I'm more scared about what might happen to me if I stay here. I'm over thirty now, Tasha. I'll be damned if I'm going to waste one more moment of my life in this fucking place." I secured the straps on the bag and picked it up. It was heavy, but not unreasonably so.

"It hasn't been _that_ bad, has it?"

I set the bag down again so I could pull on my coat, pausing a moment to look her in the eyes. "Yes. It has. I won't deny there have been some good people and good _moments_ , and I appreciate the quality of the training, but running beneath all that, I've hated every fucking moment of being locked up in here. Now wish me luck, and do think about getting out too."

She blinked. "You mean you're leaving _now_?"

I picked up the bag and adjusted the strap so my back and shoulder would take the bulk of the weight. "You thought I was just practicing?"

"I suppose not; it just seems so sudden." She stood, giving me a little smile. "Mind you, I don't know what I was expecting. They're hardly going to throw you a goodbye dinner. What will you do if one of the senior enchanters sees you?"

"Walk past them and keep right on going. We're not children anymore, Tasha. I'm more powerful than the majority of them and so are you. Anyone who wants to stay in the Circle is more than welcome to, but I'm leaving. Period."

"What if you're wrong about the templars?"

"I'm not. But if it came to that…I don't know. Maybe I'd just see if they'd actually kill me."

"You don't mean that."

I just looked at her and said, "It's getting late. I need to get moving."

She closed the distance between us and gave me a hug made awkward by the bulky traveling bag. "Good luck, Kai. Be careful, okay? I know you'll do well." She smiled crookedly. "You want this too badly not to."

"I meant it about the staff — you can have it. Maybe I'll see you on the outside?"

"I'll stop in Ostwick on my way to join the rebellion if you're still there."

"Sounds good; we'll have a beer together. You can tell anyone you think might care that I said goodbye."

She picked up my staff and accompanied me into the hallway. The corridor — cream-coloured walls above dark wood wainscoting and worn wood floors — was well lit with spelled glass globes hanging from the ceiling. Once again it was supposed to look collegiate, but to my mind it failed. There were regularly spaced alcoves from which templars could watch our every move, and all the corridors ended at locked doors.

Tasha leaned on my staff and looked me up and down. “I’ll miss you, you know.”

“I’ll miss you too,” I admitted. “You kept me sane in here. Take care of yourself, Tasha. Seriously, wait a bit if you want, but leave here and come see me. We'll go out on the town and do scandalous things that are so breathtakingly original even the City Watch will simply applaud and let us go." 

"You make it sound awfully tempting."

"It's supposed to be. Admit it — if it weren’t for me tempting you, you’d be a total stick in the mud."

“Brat. I’ll think about it.” She took my hand and gave it a squeeze. "Just stay safe, okay? I need you to be, so when I do leave I can come begging to sleep on your couch at the worst possible moment."

We reached an intersection in the hall. Tasha watched as I turned to the east, gave me a little wave and headed the opposite direction to her quarters.

I didn't encounter anyone on my way to the east door; it only took a matter of minutes to reach it. Ryton was stationed there as usual, though these days rather than standing at watchful attention he'd found himself a chair and a small table that his helmet and two ginger cookies were currently resting on. He regarded me gravely. "So you're really going through with it."

"You had doubts?"

"I always have doubts right up until I see a thing happening," he said with a faint smile. "Two more of the squad deserted last night."

I leaned against the wall, letting it hold the weight of my bag for a moment. "How many of you are left now?"

"I'm not sure. More than six, less than a dozen...soon to be one less."

I raised an eyebrow. " _You're_ really going through with it?"

He sighed. "I know it's hard for you to believe, and I understand why, but when I joined the order it was because I really wanted to help people. Not just regular people — I wanted to protect you mages from the torches-and-pitchforks crowd as well. It…turned out to be a lot different from what I'd pictured. And now…I don't know _what_ the Order's become, but I know I don't like it and I don't want to be part of it. I'm hearing really ugly things, Kai. This war is bringing out the worst on both sides."

"I intend to stay well out of it. What are you going to do, then?" 

"I suppose I'll stay at my parents' while I decide what to do," he shrugged. "They have an orchard just outside Ostwick. I told them to expect me."

"You're leaving the order _now_?"

He nodded, that faint smile returning. "Tomorrow, I'm thinking. Next week at the latest. Like I said, it's bad and getting uglier. Besides, I can’t expect you to socialise with templars any more than I could be seen with an apostate mage."

I smiled back. "Well, once you're no longer a templar, look me up. I'll be…somewhere in Ostwick, at least for a time."

"I will." His mien turned serious, "Have a care when you get to town, Kai. People are squirrelly about mages at the best of times, and with all the troubles lately…"

"That's why I'm not letting anyone know what I am. Even ditched the staff, you'll note."

He nodded. "Smart. Things aren't near as bad here as I hear they are down in Fereldan and Orlais, but there're people using the troubles as an excuse to do evil shite they would've done regardless. Just last week a man was killed in Ostwick just walking home from work. The ones that did it said they thought he was a mage. He'd found a tree branch and, maker knows why, was using it as a walking stick. It was one of the things they used to beat him to death."

"In _Ostwick_?" 

"It's been some time since you were there last. Just be aware, and if you do need to defend yourself, try to stay away from using any of your flashy spells. They could backfire if you attract the torches-and-pitchforks crowd, you know?"

I exhaled slowly. "Understood. Thank you for the warning, Ryton." I pushed myself away from the wall and adjusted my bag. "Well. I'd best be going or I'll be walking to town in the dark, since according to you it'd be dangerous to conjure a light."

He nodded again. "Good luck, Kai. The gate's unlocked for you. I'll look you up once we've both got things settled a bit more."

"I'd like that. Good bye, Ryton." We shook hands and I walked out the door. The path to the gate wasn't long, but the entire length of it I felt like a moving target, ready for someone or something to strike at me and stop my progress. Nothing did, but it still seemed like a minor miracle that I reached the gate, and another when it opened smoothly for me. I stepped through and closed it firmly behind me. For the first time in eighteen years, I was outside the Circle. I turned down the path towards town and didn't look back.

**_###_ **

_The woman turned away from the window and leaned against the wall next to it. "Well, our first one's flown. Do I need to say who it is?"_

_"Kai?"_

_"However did you guess?” she said dryly. “What do you want me to do?"_

_"Do? Let him go."_

_"But Oliver-"_

_"Let him go. Training aside, that young man should never have been kept here and I for one am not going to perpetuate that injustice."_

_"That's dangerous talk, Oliver."_

_"No, it's a long-unspoken truth. I expect we'll lose more now. It's even possible our little Circle may choose to join the rebellion, though I hope it doesn't come to that. I can think of at least half a dozen who will likely follow Kai's example. With the exception of Gyrdon Lavelle, we shall let them leave as well.”_

_“Why not Lavelle?”_

_“There are…disturbing things about him. If my worries are true, it would be disastrous to unleash him on the world. I don’t_ know _that they are yet, but we may even need to consider Tranquility. We’ll discuss it more thoroughly at the next senior enchanters’ meeting.”_

_“I hope you know what you’re doing. Next we'll be losing senior enchanters, not just your talented malcontents.”_

_“I do, Petra. You’ll just have to trust me.”_


	2. Arrival

The Circle was about an hour’s leisurely ride north of Ostwick; walking with my bag filled with all my worldly possessions took me about double that and I was feeling rather done in by the time I reached town. It wasn't the walking that wore me out so much as that bloody bag, which felt like it had steadily collected rocks as I walked. More to thank the Circle for: The templars were always worried that allowing us too much time outside being active would result in escape attempts, so being sedentary was tacitly encouraged. Our First Enchanter fought to ensure we were allowed _some_ exercise, and specializing in combat magic fortunately involved quite a bit of physicality, but not enough that I could claim to be in perfect shape.

It was early dusk as I walked through the outskirts and the lamplighters were just starting to make their rounds. Not surprisingly, the place had grown in the last eighteen years. I had also grown during that time, so the perspective I remembered seeing everything from had changed: the city was bigger, but when I ran across things I did remember, they seemed smaller. I could see the city had made some improvements since I was a boy. Back then, many of the roads were still just hard-packed dirt; now the majority of them were paved with granite setts. They'd also made more of an effort to ensure the main roads were lit. I'd heard in Tevinter they used magic to light their public areas and wondered if that was true, though of course I’d never actually go there.

I knew the first thing I needed to do was find somewhere to stay for the night, so I headed for the area of town I vaguely remembered being full of shops and inns. The area was, thankfully, almost where I remembered, though it may have migrated a few streets over. It wasn’t the posh part of the city, but one that catered mostly to travelers and people who didn’t or couldn’t own homes. The main street held inns and shops, with smaller, dingier shops and apartment buildings lining the side streets. There were people everywhere, but none of them gave me a second glance. I blended in.

I started looking for inns, paying particular attention to the ones that had their rates listed, and got an unpleasant surprise I really should have expected. In the years I’d been locked away, prices had risen considerably. I’d thought I’d managed to save enough coin to survive the first month or so while I got myself established, but even at the cheaper inns I wouldn’t be able to afford much more than a fortnight. I was going to have to find some kind of work and a room or flat as quickly as possible, since I didn’t fancy striking out for a life as a penniless wanderer, or striking out anywhere until I got acclimated. Though I’d told Tasha the truth when I said I wasn’t afraid, I _was_ keenly aware that I lacked a lot of basic knowledge about living in the real world, especially when I wouldn’t be able to use or even admit to my greatest talents. I was highly educated but woefully ignorant and that was going to take time to remedy.

I considered my prospects and settled on an inn that was inexpensive but looked clean and paid for four nights, figuring that would be enough time to make a few initial decisions. The innkeeper didn’t bat an eyelash at me. At least I could be confident my clothes didn’t look out of place. If that seems unlikely given most people's mental image of a Circle mage, I should explain that while many opted to, we weren't required to wear robes in the Ostwick circle. Personally I always despised robes, so I switched to normal clothes as soon as I discovered it was allowed. Being a scion of local nobility did have a few perks, and being able to order bespoke clothing was one of them. I settled on my preferred style long ago — sturdy, form-fitting and black. It seemed to be a popular style out in the real world too.

I climbed a steep set of stairs to my room partway down a white-painted, wood floored hallway. I entered my room and — safely away from prying eyes — conjured a soft light. The room was small but clean, painted grey-blue. It held a narrow bed, a desk, two elderly chairs and a wash basin. Someone had attempted to add a little cheer to it in the form of an amateurish but optimistic painting of yellow flowers they’d nailed above the bed.

I tossed my bag on the bed, hung my coat in the small closet and wondered what to do next. It was far too early to even consider going to sleep and I felt too keyed up to read, so even though technically I could ill afford it, I decided to go to another inn I'd seen nearby that had a large common room with what appeared to be an eclectic clientele. On the way out I warded the door so only I'd be able to enter it. Yes, there was a very remote chance that someone might realize it had been magicked shut, but I figured there was a very good chance my things would get ripped off if I didn't.

The big inn that was my destination was called the oh-so-original _Traveller’s Rest_. Its common room was vast — at least in my limited experience — with a bar stretching along the right side of the room, a big fireplace at the far end, and round tables of varying sizes taking up the bulk of the space. There were doorways behind the bar, at least one of which appeared to go to a kitchen. The floor was wood, the walls off white accented by dark wood trim, with diamond paned windows at intervals. Light was provided by lamps in wall sconces, augmented by some hanging lamps marching down the centre of the room.

I bought a beer and sat at an empty table near the back corner. I didn't want to socialize, just observe. I needed to get an idea of current events and mood before I felt confident to engage in much conversation. The room seemed split between locals and travelers passing through; thanks in great part to alcohol, most of them were talking loudly enough that they weren't difficult to overhear. I drank my beer and listened.

The travelers brought tales of war, both active and brewing. Orlais was apparently on the brink of all-out civil war, if it hadn't already begun (that didn't concern me greatly, as I had no desire whatsoever to go to Orlais). Clashes between mages and templars were becoming more frequent and more violent. Circles were breaking up or flat-out voting to join the rebellion and templars were abandoning their assigned Circles. There were claims on both sides of murder squads and assassinations, though no one seemed sure what was true and what was rumour. I must have heard half a dozen conflicting stories; the only thing that was clear was it was getting increasingly ugly throughout southern Thedas and I wanted nothing to do with it. Thanks to the unrest, there were also scores of smaller conflicts as noble houses sought to add to their holdings or settle old scores, and reports of pirate activity were increasing all along the coast, right up into Antiva. Mercenaries and outriders were in high demand everywhere as fighting factions sought soldiers and travelers sought protection. It appeared if I wanted to avoid getting caught up in one conflict or another, I'd best look to the north for options (or Nevarra, but I wasn't sure I wanted to settle somewhere that was that fascinated with their dead, and I had no idea how they treated mages).

The locals paid scant attention to most of the news the travelers brought, except as it pertained to the surge of people passing through Ostwick bringing an increase in both violent and property crimes. Strangers were being regarded with more suspicion, and I heard disparaging remarks about _damn foreigners_ , but there’s always been a bit of that sentiment in the Free Marches. Otherwise they had more immediate concerns, like the rock slide that had taken out a good-sized chunk of the road between Ostwick and Markham and the Teyrn making noises about the necessity of raising taxes again. I found that reassuring: it suggested Ostwick was far enough removed from the nastiness brewing in the land that I might be able to get myself a bit established before deciding what I wanted to do with my life.

I agreed to another beer when the barmaid asked and spent the next while simply enjoying the fact that I was sitting in an inn drinking a beer, and if I felt like it, I could leave and go wherever I wanted. No one tried to join me or talk to me, and I enjoyed that too. After I finished the second beer, I bought two bottles to take with me and walked back to my own inn. There were other people out and none of them knew me. I could look in any direction I liked and not see a templar and nobody was wearing robes. I climbed the stairs and entered my room. It wasn't much as rooms went, I suppose, but it was blessedly private, with a locking door and an unfamiliar view. For the moment, that was enough to make me happy.


	3. Reconnaissance

I returned to the Traveller's Rest for breakfast and asked the innkeeper if he could recommend anywhere for either work or inexpensive permanent lodging. He couldn't help with the former, but gave me the names of a few places that he swore were cheap but free of both vermin and criminals. I ate slowly as I contemplated the fact that I hadn't the slightest idea how one goes about finding work.

My first strategy could easily be summed up as _wandering around town_. I needed to learn my way around, and reasoned that there was at least a possibility of seeing a Help Wanted sign or some such thing. I left most of my coin back in my room, secured in my bag which was in turn secured in the warded-shut closet.

Ostwick was just as unremarkable as I remembered. Not a terrible place, but…dull. Staid. And happy to be that way. I blame its close relationship with the Chantry. The Trevelyans — my father’s side of the family — are for the most part good, pious Chantry-goers, and they also are dull, staid and happy to be that way. I always rather wondered what his relatives thought when Father married my mother, whose family is anything but staid. In any case, there’s a strong Chantry presence in Ostwick; it's one of the things I never much liked about the city.

I started in the businessy district around the inn — sadly, no desperate business owner tried to flag me down to offer me interesting work — then headed west because it was the opposite direction from which I’d entered town. It was mostly inns, a couple of stables, a shop that seemed to have jammed a bit of everything into its stock, two shops selling food and three pubs. Everything looked a little seedy and run down in the cold light of day, which confirmed I wasn’t in the posh area of the city.

I wasn’t even sure what I’d tell a prospective employer about myself. I could safely admit to reading and writing well, but other than that… When it came to questions about history, I was either going to have to make something up or be convincingly evasive, perhaps intimating something tragic and definitely non-magical.

When things started looking too residential, I took a few random turns to the south, heading (I hoped) for the harbour district where there’d be more businesses. Over the years I’d been gone, it appeared the city had gone for white stucco with red roofs in a big way, but the district I was traveling through now hadn’t gotten that message. There was stonework, but precious little whitewash, and wooden buildings were becoming increasingly common. The paving was uneven, and the sidewalks were low and poorly maintained. I kept going anyway, expecting I’d hit the waterfront any moment. That sea smell was becoming stronger even though I couldn’t see any water yet. 

I made another random turn, walking down a street that became even shabbier. The sea smell was overlaid with the scent of infrequent garbage removal and cooking odours. The buildings were all wood now: three to four story apartment buildings packed close together as though they were helping each other to stand upright a little longer. The street had become narrow and all pretence at paving was gone — it was just hard packed earth. The gap was little enough that there were lines of hanging laundry stretching across the street from upper floor windows.

The street let out on a large central square dominated by a tree planted dead centre. It was about then it dawned on me that everyone around me was elven. Sometimes my powers of observation take a holiday, and I was much worse about it back then. As my brain was reporting _You've wandered into Ostwick's alienage_ , an elf approached me. He had long, braided brown hair, eyes the colour of burnt amber and sun-toughened skin. 

"Is there something we can help you with, human?" 

"I beg your pardon," I said, "I'm new around here. I didn't mean to intrude."

His eyebrows flew up. "You beg _my_ pardon?"

"Well, I wandered into your neighbourhood. I understand if I'm not entirely welcome here, so yes." I tried a self-deprecating smile out on him.

He shook his head, a slight smile pulling at his lips. "Our _neighbourhood_. Was there something you're looking for, human?"

"Kai."

"Excuse me?"

"My name is Kai. And you are?"

His eyes narrowed, but he answered, "Galen. This is -um- most unusual hu- Kai. You do know this is an alienage, yes?"

"It did eventually dawn on me. As I said, I didn't mean to intrude. I'm just trying to learn my way around the city."

He seemed to be thawing a bit. " _Is_ there something you're looking for?"

"Well, I suspect this is hardly the place to ask for work," Galen snorted agreement, "so no, unless you’ve any advice. Aside from a few shopkeepers, you're the first person I've talked to since I got here."

He cocked his head to one side. "You are aware that as well as this being an alienage, I am an elf?"

"The ears were a dead giveaway, I'm afraid. Do you have a problem with me not having a problem with you?"

He smiled slowly. "As I said, it is unusual. My first bit of advice? You may not wish to go deeper into the alienage; many elves here have no fondness for humans."

"Of course. If you could point me in a more constructive direction, I'd appreciate it."

"Come with me, Kai." He started walking down the street I'd entered the alienage from. I followed, curious but watchful in case he'd decided I was an easy mark. He soon turned left down a narrower street that led towards the centre of town. As we walked, he said, "So where are you from that thinks elves should be treated like people?"

"I'm not from much of anywhere these days. I lost my home years ago. I arrived at the conclusion that elves are people as worthy of respect as any human on my own."

"Well, that’s refreshing. Did it occur to you I may be leading you into an ambush as we speak?"

I chuckled. "Yes, but I chose to believe you're not."

He stopped where our street intersected a much larger one and leaned against the wall of the building next to us. "You seem like a decent man, Kai, so perhaps I will give you some advice. As cities go, Ostwick isn't terrible. However, the Chantry's strong here, and there's some ugliness hiding just below the surface. They're not fond of novelty here, so you may want to be careful when it comes to things like letting others know how open-minded you are."

I nodded. “So does this mean I can’t offer to buy you a drink?”

“A drink,” he echoed, squinting at me. "You mean that, don't you?"

“Why not? There have to be places around here that don’t care who you’re drinking with as long as you have the coin to pay for it.”

“Well, yes, but…”

I grinned. “Perhaps you don’t want to be seen with a human?”

“I admit I don’t normally intermingle in my off hours,” he said, “but since I seem to have become your tour guide…far be it from me to appear as prejudiced as we claim humans are.”

“Then join me? Unless you have some place you need to be, in which case I apologize for dragging you away.”

He shrugged. "I have nowhere I must be and I'm curious just how much more surreal this day might become. Let's get that drink."

He led us to a nondescript pub some blocks away and let me do the ordering while he found us a table near the back. Even in that place we got disapproving looks from a few of the patrons. I cast a subtle muffling spell so people wouldn’t be able to eavesdrop on us. He sipped his drink as he studied me. “I can’t tell if you’re incredibly naïve or incredibly confident."

“Truth? Likely a bit of both, which is why I’ll take any advice I can get.”

“I note you don’t have a weapon, yet you didn’t seem concerned about following a stranger down back roads you don’t know.” He made the statement almost a question.

“Luckily, that’s worked out so far,” I said.

His lips quirked. “Well, even if you don’t think you need one, my next piece of advice is to arm yourself and for Andraste’s sake, learn how to use whatever weapon you pick. Just seeing that you’re armed can work as a deterrent for would-be attackers, not to mention half the people passing through town lately are armed to the teeth.”

I conceded he had a point and asked if there was a particular weapon he’d suggest.

“If I were you, I’d look for something like a hunting knife,” he said. “They’re sturdy, have multiple uses, and as long as you remember which end is the pointy one, they’re not difficult to master.”

“In other words, probably about my speed,” I said. He laughed softly. “Thanks for the advice. I think I was very fortunate to blunder into your alienage. What is it you do for a living, if you don’t mind my asking?”

He told me he worked for a messenger service delivering around Ostwick and its outlying areas. As jobs went — especially jobs available to elves — it was a rather good one. "And before you even think about asking, I can't get you a job there," he said with a smile. "Not only aren't there any, but my employer prefers to hire elves."

"Any particular reason?"

"She can pay us less. She's also got it in her head that because of our physical characteristics, elves are faster than the other races. We've seen no reason to tell her differently."

I chuckled. "Sensible of you. I doubt I'd be much use as a messenger anyway, given I don't really know the area."

He raised an eyebrow. "May I ask you something?"

"If it's a reasonable question," I said.

"I believe it is.” He drummed his fingers on the table and said, “What _do_ you do? We've established you're no sell-sword and your navigational skills leave something to be desired."

It was the question I'd been dreading and trying to answer in my mind since before I left the Circle. I should have had a calm and believable answer ready, but instead I floundered just like I'd feared I would. "I -um- read and write very well…" 

He stared at me. "And?"

"Research?" I said weakly.

He looked down at the table then back up at me with the look people get when they're trying not to laugh out loud. "That is…"

"Pathetic?"

He allowed himself a quiet chuckle. "Frankly, yes. Had you given a moment's thought to what you were going to say to people?"

"Believe it or not, I've thought about it incessantly," I said drily, "Perhaps too much."

He shook his head and gave me a shrewd look. "Well, you're too old to have just run away from home, but if I put the pieces of the puzzle together…you are old enough to have just run away from a mage circle. Would that still make you an apostate or have they done away with that?"

I sighed. "Is it that obvious?"

He took pity on me, “No, it really isn’t. You don’t look or act like a mage.”

“If I don’t look or act like one, how..?” 

“Honestly, what made me wonder was when you followed me so willingly down that back street. You didn’t act like you were simply that naïve; you acted like you didn’t feel I was a threat. Since you were unarmed, that either meant you were an expert in some sort of exotic hand-to-hand combat method or a mage. I went with the more likely of the two.”

“Damn. It didn’t even occur to me that I should act concerned.”

“Now perhaps you see why I recommended a weapon.” He grinned.

I nodded. “And now perhaps you see why I’m not sure what to say about my skills. This is not a good time to be a mage — not that there ever really has been — so I’d rather keep that quiet while I decide what to do.”

Galen leaned back in his seat, looking relaxed for the first time. “At least you make sense now. You’re as much a pariah as any elf — you're just able to keep it hidden. If you were a little more seasoned I’d suggest you can always find work hiring out as a mercenary or a guard, but you’d probably just get yourself and whoever hired you killed at the moment…or at least hopelessly lost,” he added with a smirk.

“Since those clearly aren't an option, I don’t suppose you’ve run across anything that might be worth my looking into?”

“It’s not really something that comes up when I’m delivering messages,” he said then gave me an evil smile. “They do always seem to be looking for people to unload ships."

“Ugh. I’m not that desperate yet.” I lifted my glass in a small toast. “Well, thank you anyway. I appreciate your taking the time to talk to me.”

“It made for a more interesting afternoon than I’d expected,” he said. We talked of trivial matters until we finished our drinks then wished each other well and went our separate ways. I may not have found work, but I'd learned some useful things. 

**=#=**

Up in my room, I had to face the fact that my money was dwindling much more quickly than I'd anticipated. Admittedly, I shouldn't have bought beer with any of it, but I also was using money to feed myself and now I needed to purchase a weapon as well as find lodging. I removed some more coin from my bag, re-warded the closet and headed back out.

The two apartment buildings the innkeeper had suggested I try were definitely in the low-rent district of town. It was an area to the northwest of the business district that had once been posh before the well-off moved on to newer vistas with better views. There were still a few of the grand old mansions here and there throughout the neighbourhood, though some were boarded up and most were run down and had been cut up into flats. Everything else was cheap apartment buildings — mostly three story rectangles with all the charm and personality of a bowl of wet oatmeal. Still, the area looked relatively clean, there were two pubs and one of those shops that seemed to sell a bit of everything nearby, and none of the people I saw gave me so much as a curious glance.

Both buildings were three story relics that looked like they'd been built some time near the end of the last age, rented for virtually the same price and had vacancies. I chose the building that offered a third floor unit; more stair-climbing, but also more privacy and fewer neighbours. I gave the landlord much of my remaining money for rent with a guarantee I'd be able to move in in two days' time.

On the way back to my inn, I stopped at a shop that sold second-hand arms and armour and bought the best hunting knife I could afford. It was a sturdy thing half the length of my forearm with a heavy blade that still had a fairly good edge to it. I'd had some weapons training as a boy, so I was confident I could learn to handle it well without a great deal of difficulty. I also knew how to hone and strengthen the blade magically. One more stop at my room gave me enough money to buy dinner at the Traveller's Rest, but at the rate I was running through it, I wouldn't last a week.

I bought one beer to nurse and returned to the table near the back of the common room. I recognized a few of the locals from the night before; most of the travelers were new. They recounted the same stories I'd already heard, so I allowed my attention to wander. Much as I disliked the idea, I was probably going to have to take a short journey soon. 


	4. Arbeit macht...

I did have a go at finding gainful employment the next day. I was at a loss concerning what sort of businesses might have a use for my (non-magical) talents. Ostwick’s one bookstore wasn’t hiring and I hadn’t the slightest idea who might be seeking a good writer and researcher. I certainly wasn’t going to check with the Chantry. That left me with a refined version of my _wandering around town_ stratagem, in that I sought out likely businesses rather than wandering aimlessly.

I spent hours at it and got turned down at every place I thought might be tolerable. The only positive thing I could say about the entire exercise was I learned my way around most of the city, and learned a great deal more about it. In the nicer areas, the City Watch was far more visible than I remembered. They patrolled singly and in pairs, on foot and on horseback. I found the big town square with its government and administrative buildings (none of them hiring). A woman sitting on a bench told me they still had a market day once a week, but there was a street some blocks away where foodsellers had permanent shops as well. It had been there when I was young, but I’d never been aware of its existence.

The same could be said for much else in the city. I found tailors, barbers, stables, banks, cartographers, weaponsmiths and armorers, flower stalls, supply shops, cobblers and a hundred other things I’d never had cause to notice as a boy on those occasions when I’d accompanied my parents or a nanny into the city. There were pubs everywhere, a few blocks by the waterfront that appeared dedicated to prostitution and a few others that were just as dedicated to gambling. I nearly blundered into Chantry grounds once, but the ornate gates at the entrance clued me into where I was heading in time to walk away quickly. Every neighbourhood and street seemed to have its own smell, too, and not all of them were pleasant.

In addition to the throngs of locals, there were many strangers in the city now, passing through en route to one conflict or another or trying to get away from them. The armoured soldiers and mercenaries were most in evidence down at the waterfront and in the entertainment district, but there were scatterings of them nearly everywhere I went. I heard a dozen different languages and accents as I walked through the sometimes crowded streets, saw humans and elves of every sort and quite a few dwarves. Children ran and shouted everywhere.

After spending most of the morning and afternoon at it, I was feeling thoroughly overwhelmed and retreated back to the relative quiet of my inn. Never mind the isolation of the Circle, I couldn’t remember _ever_ being around that many people. I ventured out again long enough to go to the Rest, buy dinner and some bottles of beer then retreated to my room for the remainder of the night to read one of the second hand books I’d allowed myself to purchase. 

The next morning I tried again, trudging from place to place in search of gainful employment. There still wasn’t one place I considered tolerable that would give me the time of day. Finally, in a moment of impulsive desperation, I accepted the one job I’d been offered — loading and unloading carts for a cooper. I was a bit leery of it due to the early hour I was expected to start and the fact that it was a manual labour job, but stupidly thought _how hard could it be_?

I had my answer before the first day had even half finished. It was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. Not that it was mentally challenging, but within two hours my muscles were screaming with outraged exhaustion, including many I’d never been aware of before. It turned out things like combat magic moves and dancing both required completely different sets of muscles than picking up and loading heavy bloody barrels for hours on end. Just to add to my feeling of complete inadequacy, the fellow I was working with was all of eighteen years old and built like he modeled for heroic statuary in his spare time. I swear he barely broke a sweat the entire day and had an expression of amused pity whenever he looked at me. If I hadn’t started using discreet force spells to help move the damned barrels I don’t know that I’d have made it past the first half day, and as it was I just barely made it back to my inn to fall exhausted into bed, aching from head to foot.

The second day I awoke feeling unspeakably stiff and sore. I cast a healing spell on myself that only helped marginally (I’m the first to admit healing spells aren’t my forte, but I don’t think any healing spell would have helped more than marginally). As I crawled out of bed I couldn’t imagine how I was supposed to walk across the room, much less lift anything. I must have looked as miserable as I felt, because the innkeeper took pity on me and gave me breakfast for half price, including a large mug of an Antivan drink called coffee that had become increasingly popular in the Free Marches over the last decade or so. I could see why; after the first shock at its bitterness, I decided it was one of the most wonderful substances I’d ever consumed. Being able to afford it always was quickly added to my list of goals. Thus encouraged, I made my way to my job and spent the rest of the day trying to balance how much physical torture I could endure with how much spellcasting I could get away with before it became obvious.

Somehow I made it through the rest of that week. I moved from the inn to my new apartment, not a massive undertaking when all my worldly possessions were in one large traveling bag. It was a single large room furnished with a sturdy washbasin, a bed that looked as if it had been constructed by a drunken apprentice carpenter, a threadbare rug I suspected was mostly comprised of dust, and a table and chairs that looked like a strong breath would shatter them. It was cheery as a prison cell and probably just as comfortable. I barely noticed, as every night I was so exhausted I fell asleep shortly after dinner and likely would have slept just as soundly on the floor. I have to admit, the job was easier to cope with by the end of the week as my muscles became more accustomed to the effort I was demanding of them. There was only one problem: I _hated_ it.

I endured another endless week. I was rather pleased I was needing to rely less and less on my magic to do the job and was even developing something of a physique, but my hatred of the job was crystallizing into something pure and powerful and perpetual that I wasn’t inclined to deny. At the end of that second week I got paid, and the paltry amount of money I had left after paying off my rent and meals convinced me there were better ways to develop a physique. I thanked the cooper for the opportunity and quit. It was time to take that journey.


	5. Coming Home

I gave myself one day and night to do nothing, but that was all. The following morning I got up early, taking extra time to clean up and shave properly. I pocketed enough coin for coffee, strapped my new knife to my belt, and was out of my room before midday. Along with the coffee I managed to cadge a slice of berry pie off the innkeeper's daughter for breakfast. I'd like to say it was my irresistible charm that influenced her, but the pie was days old and she'd been going to throw it out anyway. I glanced at the people riding by on horses and, with a purely mental sigh, started walking.

Just over an hour later I reached the ornate ironwork gates. I already knew they were more for show than an earnest attempt to keep anyone out. I pushed them open and walked through, taking an extra moment to close them firmly behind me. The grounds before me looked park-like, lush and well-tended, with copses of pink and purple wisteria trees and cunningly placed islands of crystal grace. The gravel path was firm and even and late afternoon sunlight imparted a warm, fairy-tale glow to the scene. I tried to dismiss the feeling that I shouldn't be there.

It took five minutes to reach the house, which consisted of a large central building constructed of grey-white river stone flanked on either side by two short wings set at right angles to the main house, giving the whole complex a truncated U shape and the back of the place a large courtyard with one open end. The roof was of red clay tile. Elsewhere on the grounds were stables, a guest house and a few outbuildings. It hadn’t changed much over the years. I approached the big front doors and knocked.

A young elven woman in servants' livery answered the door. She looked me up and down and said, "May I help you?" like she doubted it.

"Are the lord and lady here?"

"They are. Do you have business with them?"

"Just tell them Kai's here. I'll wait."

She gave me another doubtful look and, with a bob of her head, closed the door with what seemed like more force than necessary. Annoyingly, I felt a bit nervous.

The door opened again. "Kai? Maker's breath, it really _is_ you. Don't just stand there on the porch, come in!" My mother pulled me across the threshold into a hug. I hugged her back just a little stiffly. She disengaged and led me into the house. "It's such a nice day I was out in the courtyard; we can go back out there if you like. Would you like something to drink? Have you eaten?"

"Some water would be lovely. It was a bit of a hike out here."

She stopped, spinning around to look at me. "You _walked_ here? From where?"

"Just from Ostwick. It wasn't that bad, but it's a rather dusty undertaking."

"I'll get something for you. Do you remember where the courtyard is? I'll meet you out there." 

She went presumably in search of a servant. I made my way to the back of the house. The furnishings had changed from overstuffed, hulking rounded things in shades of dark orange and brown to sleekly luxurious charcoal and teal complemented by a grey carpet subtly patterned with blue that I found much more attractive. Fortunately the layout was the same and I reached the courtyard without getting lost once. It was odd to think I used to live there. It almost seemed like it must have been someone else, and they'd just given me very detailed descriptions of the place.

Moments later my mother joined me. She'd gotten her dark brown hair cut short at some point — it looked good on her. "Refreshments will be here soon. You _are_ dusty, aren't you? I- Kai, I'm delighted, but what are you doing here?"

"Where's Father? The girl said he was here too." I tried to smack more of the road dust off my trousers and boots.

"He's out on the grounds — I sent someone to fetch him. Thank you, Mala, that will be all," she said the last to the woman who set a refreshment tray on the table by us. She poured me a glass; it seemed I rated lemonade.

"Thank you. I may as well wait until he gets here to explain things." 

"Can you explain one thing before he gets here?"

"I suppose — what is it?"

"What happened to your _hair_? Did they make you do that?"

I grinned. "No, Mother, it was purely voluntary."

She frowned. " _Why_? You always had such nice hair; so thick. Did you start losing it? How long have you been shaving it?"

"No, I didn't start losing it and I've been shaving it for at least five or six years now. It's more comfortable, that's all."

She squinted at me. "If you say so… Not that it looks bad; it'll just take some getting used to."

"How have _you_ been, Mother? You're looking good."

We chatted as though I visited like this all the time, about subjects so neutral and inconsequential I'm sure we'd both had deeper conversations with shopkeepers. She kept staring at me while trying to act like she wasn't. I tried not to let on I was doing the same to her. I think we were both relieved when footsteps announced the arrival of my father. He hadn't changed much. He was still slim and his hair was still full and black.

He stopped just shy of the table. "Kai. This is unexpected. Welcome, son."

"Hello, Father." I hoped I sounded pleasant, was afraid it came out snotty and was annoyed with myself for worrying about two utterly neutral words.

"Lemonade, eh? Don't mind if I do," he said as he sat. Mother poured him a glass and topped off ours. "So…" eyes a lighter, bluer shade of grey than mine regarded me, "to what do we owe this pleasure?"

"I've left the Circle. Permanently."

His eyes widened slightly as Mother said, "Won't they come after you? Or have they finally come to their senses and let you all go?"

"Not officially, they haven't. There is a possibility they'll come after me, but it's unlikely. The Circles and the templars are both falling apart. I'm sure you've heard more about it than I have."

Father nodded. "Sounds like an ugly business all the way around. How did you manage to get out?"

I smiled slightly. "Walked through the doors and out a side gate. Most of the templars there have left and the ones remaining don't much care anymore. In any case, I'm not going back. They've already stolen eighteen years from me. That's more than enough."

"What-" my mother began when a young woman's voice preceded her loudly into the courtyard.

"Mother! Are you out here? Mala said you were-" she stopped in mid-sentence and stared.

"Danae, your brother's here," my father said.

The last time I'd seen my sister she was barely five years old; now she was nineteen. She'd grown into a striking woman, tousled hair mother's chestnut rather than father's and my black, her eyes a blue-green that no one else in the family had. Aside from the hair, she was lucky enough to take after Father’s side of the family in the looks department (his is the pretty one; the word most often used for Mother’s side of the family — which I take after — is _intense_ ). She was wearing an upscale take on riding clothes. The last time she'd seen me, I'd been seventeen and hadn't started shaving my head yet. I doubted she'd recognized me.

She said, "Um, hi. Kai."

I said, "Hi, Danae."

She said, "I'm, um, glad they let you out of that place. Um. You all probably have a lot to talk about. I should go. I'll, um, see you later." She pasted a wide smile on her face, said, "Bye!" and fled.

A few moments of silence passed. "Well, that went well," I said.

Father snort-laughed as Mother said, "She, _um_ , wasn't expecting you."

"So Kai," he said in a _let's get down to business_ sort of tone, "now that you've left, what are you going to do?"

 _Shite. Well, here goes nothing…_ "That's something I have to figure out. Being locked away for that long, I'm afraid I've got some work to do in order to join the real world."

They both nodded.

"The thing is, I've discovered things are…significantly more expensive than I remember and the skills I can admit to aren't the most marketable." I sighed. "To put it frankly, I've been on my own for just over two weeks and I'm already nearly out of money."

Father nodded again, not looking upset in the slightest.

Mother said, "You could stay here."

"No. I can't. If I'm to have any sort of life at all, I need to catch up. I need to be able to live on my own just like every other thirty-one-year-old. I'm not going to learn a thing living at my parents' house."

She smiled. "You're right, of course. But I did want to make the offer."

"I hate having to hit you up for money like this but…I really don't have anywhere else to turn."

"Do you have a place to live?" she asked.

"I found an apartment, yes. You'd probably be appalled if you saw it, but it's been guaranteed to me as insect and criminal free."

"Both important features," my father said drily. "I can give you some money now to get you through, and I'll set you up with our bank so you can take what you need until you get on your feet."

I raised an eyebrow. "You trust me enough to give me carte blanche? I could take advantage of that and decide my perfect career would be that of dissolute libertine."

"There will be a limit, but you won't know it unless you reach it," he said with a short laugh. "I'm trusting you're serious about taking your life back now that you're out of that damn place."

"Serious as a heart attack."

“Give me a few days and I can give you a few names — people who might be able to give you some work.”

I frowned. “Is that fair? It somehow doesn’t feel right, letting you do that for me.”

He frowned right back. “Kai. You’re a Trevelyan. There is nothing unfair about using something you were born to if it gives you a slight edge. I’m not making up a nonsense job for you like I’ve seen some families do for no-talent brats. In my opinion you’re a fool if you _don’t_ use those things you come by honestly to your advantage.”

“All right, I concede to your greater experience,” I said smiling.

He chewed on the inside of his lower lip as he examined his fingernails for a moment then added, “That being said, there’s, um, really no reason to bring up the whole magic thing to these people.”

“Even though I come by that just as honestly?”

“Your father doesn’t mean anything, Kai, it’s just with all the trouble right now…” my mother trailed off.

I rubbed my eyes, suddenly feeling tired. “Don’t worry, I’m very aware of all that. For the time being, I’m not letting _any_ one know I’m a mage. The overwhelming consensus is letting people know could be extremely hazardous to my health.”

“A man was killed in Ostwick recently because a group of local thugs _thought_ he was a mage,” Mother said.

“I heard.”

“You’re not going to run off and join those rebels, are you?”

I shook my head. “I just want a life, thank you very much. I’ve had quite enough of living among groups of people and I don’t want to bloody fight anything. I’d prefer to teach by example once it won’t get me killed.”

Father wrinkled his nose. “What does that mean?”

I shrugged. “Just let people know, yes, I’m a mage. I’m also not mad, bloodthirsty, power hungry or likely to turn into a monster before your eyes. I have some talents you don’t, and you may even find them useful. So there’s no reason I shouldn’t be able to live where I like just like everyone else.”

“It’s a lovely thought, son, but I don’t know that you’ll ever get the Chantry to agree to that,” Mother said.

Father snorted.

“The way things are going, it might fall to pieces too,” I said cheerfully.

“Speculation aside, you need to get yourself established now,” Father pointed out. “Is there anything else you need? Can you pay for stables?”

I laughed. “ _Stables_?”

“He walked here, Em,” Mother said. “He only left the circle a few weeks ago.”

“Sadly, the package they gave me when they locked me in there didn’t include a pony,” I added.

My father flushed (with our fair skin, that sort of thing is hard to hide). “Oh. Of course. How embarrassing. Well, you’ve got to have a horse.”

“I do?”

“You don’t want to walk everywhere.”

“I don’t?”

“Don’t be a smartass, Kai. You’re a Trevelyan. It may sound nonsensical to you, but _as_ a Trevelyan, you should have a horse.”

“I don’t know that I’d have time to look after one. I’m not even sure I remember how.” The truth was I remembered just fine. I’d always hated tending to the horses. Riding them was one thing — I was actually quite good at that — but the amount of maintenance they take drives me round the bend.

Father gave me a narrow-eyed look. “That is what the stables are for. I’m not _giving_ you a horse, I’m simply proposing you use one of ours. I’ll give you the address of the stables we use when we’re in town, along with notes explaining they’re to keep the horse there and you’re to have use of it as long as you choose to stay in Ostwick. In the event you decide to leave, the horse returns here. That’s all.”

“Oh. Then…thank you, I guess.”

"You can ride it home; I'll write the notes before you go."

"You're staying for dinner aren't you?” Mother asked, “You have to stay for dinner. It's already nearly that time and you don’t want to ride back to town on an empty stomach."

“Besides,” Father added, “it’s madness to pass up a free meal.”

“Particularly in my situation,” I said. Politeness aside, I honestly was hungry, so I agreed.

“Not to mention, after not seeing you for all these years it would be nice to start getting to know you,” Mother said and left to tell the kitchen there would be an extra person, leaving my father and I sitting there staring at each other.

After that parting remark I felt like a mercenary cad and had no idea what to say to him. It appeared he didn’t know what to say to me either.

"You're, um, looking well," he hazarded. "Suppose they at least kept you fed there."

"It was the least they could do," I said drily. "How are you and Mother doing?"

"Oh, can't complain." He gave me a look of vague consternation. "Did I miss something? Are the circles making you shave your hair now?"

I choked back a snort of laughter. "No, Father, this was a personal choice. I just find it more comfortable."

"Hunh." He shook his head and smiled. "I know several involuntarily bald men who would hate you for that. It doesn't look bad; suits you somehow. Easy to maintain, I suppose."

"Very, as long as you have a good razor."

"Hunh," he said again, then surprised me with, "I don't think I'd have the balls to do it, myself."

I laughed. "I never considered it an act of bravery. I did it on a dare then found out I prefer it this way."

"Many great discoveries were accidental," Father said, looking amused.

"How've things been here in Ostwick? Have the troubles spread this far?"

"Not yet. Teyrn's getting nervous about it, though. Kirkwall proved the Free Marches aren't immune. We've heard stories from some of the other cities — there seem to be a few bands of rogue templars attacking citizens, if you can believe it, and a few of the more aggressive minor Houses are taking advantage of the confusion to move against each other. Don't suppose you've heard much reliable information."

"I learned more in the common room of an inn the past two weeks than I did in years in the Circle.”

“You, um, find your way around the city all right? It’s grown since you were there last.”

“I’m learning. Some of it I remembered. Did accidentally wander into the alienage the second day, but I made it out unscathed.”

He eyed his empty glass and brightened. “Say, since it’s nearly dinner time, how about a real drink?”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll just stick to beer if you have any.”

He nodded. “Follow me. We put in a new bar a few years ago. Had it built from the timbers of an old ship.”

I followed him without comment, since the only thing that occurred to me was _how nautical of you_. The bar was in the back living room that abutted the smaller dining room and I couldn’t see anything nautical about it at all, but if it made him happy… I accepted the beer from him and quietly chilled it a bit more with a small freezing spell while he mixed drinks for himself and my mother. He sat in an armchair while I perched on the edge of the couch and we both pretended great interest in our drinks. It wasn’t that I had nothing to say so much as there were too many things I could say and I couldn’t imagine where to start. To be honest, I was afraid. I didn’t want to start anything when everyone was trying so hard to be civil to one another, and in a very big way we barely knew each other. 

Father looked just as relieved as I felt when Mother joined us. He handed her her drink and she filled the edgy silence with a silly story about something a friend of hers had done the other day. I let them do most of talking as I couldn’t think of any amusing anecdotes. The last fortnight had been markedly lacking in hilarity and everything else I could have said would have been prefaced by _while I was locked in the Mage Circle_ whether I said it or not. I didn’t want to start talking about that. It would make them uncomfortable and I knew I’d end up getting angry.

The maid announced dinner. We made our way to the dining room (not the big, formal one, thank the maker) and a few moments later Danae emerged from wherever she’d been hiding. “Kai’s staying for dinner,” Mother said brightly.

“That’s nice,” my sister said with another of those wide, fake smiles.

What followed was one of the most acutely uncomfortable meals I’ve ever sat through. Everyone was trying so desperately to act cheerful, you’d have thought there were armed thugs standing just out of sight promising death to the first poor bastard who didn’t smile. No one knew what might be the wrong thing to say. For instance, I innocently asked Danae what she was doing these days (partly because I was tiring of the way she kept staring at me when she thought I wasn’t looking at her; every time I _did_ look at her, she contrived to stare at her plate). She answered shortly that she was trying to decide whether to attend a university or apprentice for a trade. My mother said flatly that she was going to university, my father grunted agreement and Danae glared at all of us before returning her gaze firmly to her plate. 

At least the uncomfortable silence that followed that exchange had virtually nothing to do with me. That is, until Father, likely trying to get something through to her about the _value of education_ , said, “I hear the circles do a bang-up job when it comes to education, eh, Kai?”

“Oh yes. Along with everything you could hope to know about magic — and there’s a lot — they taught us languages, history, some alchemy, mathematics, theatre and the arts, logic, healing and herbcraft… it was quite extensive. Research projects were also highly encouraged. One wonders why, considering they had no intention of letting us out to use any of it. I suspect it was to keep us too busy to get ideas of joining the outside world.”

I may have allowed a little too much sarcasm to creep into that as a leaden silence followed.

“Well, now that you _are_ back you have quite an impressive background to draw on,” Mother said with desperate cheer.

I bit back another sarcastic response, saying, “I suppose you’re right,” and paid attention to my own plate. 

"So you're _out_ out?" Danae asked.

I nodded. "Permanently."

"What are you doing now?"

"Asking our parents for money." I thought that was kind of funny, but Danae looked mortified, flushing bright red and turning her attention back to her food with a mumbled, _oh…um, sorry._

And so it went for the rest of the meal. As soon as she could politely do so, Danae asked if she could excuse herself as she had plans she couldn’t back out of. Allowed to escape, she said, “It was lovely to see you, Kai,” gave me another big, phony smile and fled.

I finished my own meal and suggested I should be leaving soon, as I still needed to get back to town. My parents agreed and while Father went to his study to write letters for me to present to people, Mother accompanied me to the stable to pick out a horse. I requested she do the honours since she knew all of them and their temperaments. She chose a bay gelding named Lightning.

I made a face. “Lightning? Seriously?”

“Three years ago your sister thought it was funny. He’s a sweet-tempered animal. I think you’ll like him.” She led me from the stable and stopped just outside. “Kai… I know this wasn’t the most…comfortable homecoming. We had no idea-”

“I know,” I said. “I didn’t want to just show up on your doorstep like this. I should have tried a little harder on my own first, I’m sorry.”

“I wasn’t looking for an apology,” she said snappishly then softened her tone. “I just want you to know we _are_ happy you’re out and…know you’re welcome here.”

“Thank you. For everything.” _I saw the loathing in her eyes before she walked away from me, back stiff with anger_...and put that old image out of my mind as best I could. “Next time I’ll give you some warning before coming out here. I…probably won’t be visiting right away. I need to figure out how to have a life, you know?”

“Of course. But we _would_ like to see you now and then.”

“I’d like that too.” 

We returned to the house, where Father presented me with a thick envelope containing letters for the stables and their bank as well as a generous amount of money. I wrote my address down for him and he assured me he’d be in touch with names of people I might be able to approach for work. I thanked him and a servant approached to tell us the horse was saddled and ready to go. 

I thanked them again. Father shook my hand, told me not to be a stranger, then pulled me into an awkward, one-armed hug. Mother also hugged me and they accompanied me to the front door, watching from there as I mounted Lightning and set out for town. I gave them a last wave and concentrated on remembering how to ride a horse properly. Fortunately it turned out to be one of those things your body never really forgets how to do, and the ride back was actually quite pleasant. Stupid name aside, Lightning _was_ a sweet-tempered animal and seemed to enjoy the unexpected trip.

I reached the stables, presented them with Father’s letter and happily let them tend to Lightning’s needs while I walked back to my flat. Most of my money and the letters to the bank went into my travel bag in my heavily warded closet, the only truly secure spot in the place. I suddenly felt like I needed not just one drink, but several as the adrenaline and tension I’d been running on for the last several hours started to abate. I suppose I should have felt pleased at how well everything had gone, but my main feelings were regret and emotional exhaustion. There was a part of me that was convinced I had done everything wrong and they’d been secretly disgusted with me. I knew that wasn’t so, but the feeling remained. Beneath all the pleasantries, there were many things broken between us and repairing them was going to take time and care.

I returned to the common room and what I half-considered my regular table at the Traveler’s Rest. I let the conversation of others distract me and after two beers the anxiety drained away so I just felt tired. I had nightmares that night that I hadn’t experienced in years, but I was glad I’d seen my parents.


	6. Interlude

The next day I took the letters to my parents’ bank and was set up with an account. As a Trevelyan, I rated my own personal banker. Once again I felt a bit like I was getting to cheat, but I have to admit I accepted his help and was pleased I wouldn't have to stand in line hoping someone would be kind enough to walk me through the things I was unfamiliar with.

Now that I had some money, I informed the landlord I wouldn't need the dreadful furniture that came with the room (it was put in storage in the basement rather than being junked as it so richly deserved) and spent an afternoon buying my own. I also found a tailor and cobbler and arranged to have clothes and boots made. I didn't take advantage of my parents' largesse to buy luxury items (all right, I did buy a very good bed that was twice the size of any I'd ever slept in), but stuck with things that were sturdy, comfortable and inexpensive. The only slightly frivolous items I got were a stack of used books and a small icebox. There were no cooking facilities in my flat, but I didn't know how to cook so that wasn't a concern.

I spent most evenings at the Traveller's Rest, rationalizing that I liked their food. The truth was I wasn't sure where else to go. I didn’t particularly want to talk to anyone but I also wasn't going to learn anything just hiding in my flat all the time. The Rest was a good compromise, since everyone seemed to have their favoured group of people and rarely spoke to anyone outside it. 

After Galen (the alienage elf) figured me out so easily, I put considerable effort into correcting bad habits I brought with me from the Circle. It wasn't just out of concern that I might look stupid (though obviously I'd prefer not to) — I was also aware things could get ugly if the wrong sort of person figured out what I was or decided to pick a fight. There had already been a few times things had gotten a little dicey in the Rest when men with too much drink and too little self-control had started getting loud and combative. I’d been lucky enough to escape involvement so far, staying at my back corner table and quietly casting what I always thought of as my _don’t notice me_ spell (as it didn’t make you invisible, it just obscured you from attracting attention).

My worry was that I was very capable of defending myself, but using magic was likely to bring out what Ryton called the ‘torches and pitchforks crowd’ which could put me in more danger than the boob who started the fight. I spent time practicing with my hunting knife and hoped I’d never have to use it against anyone.

Three days after I saw my parents, a courier arrived at my flat with a letter from my father. It was brief and businessy — he hates writing letters — and contained the names of three different places I might be able to get work along with a brief description of each job. I was slightly surprised and touched to see that he’d apparently listened when I was describing my skills and tried to find occupations that might suit me. That may sound odd, but back then I really had no idea if my parents even liked me. I knew they would help me because their social standing demanded it, but part of me was convinced they hated me no matter how nice they tried to be when I saw them. I wasn’t exactly the poster boy for emotional stability at that point in my life, but after a lifetime of the Chantry beating us over the head with how mages are inherently unstable and dangerous, I don’t think I can be blamed for every bit of it.

I picked the job that appealed most but decided to wait for the beginning of the week to go there. That gave me a few days to get more comfortable with my surroundings and learn the route to my potential place of employment.

I knew I was going to have to start talking to other people at some point, but I was in no hurry. In the Circle it was nearly impossible to avoid being around people; if you managed to find a private spot, it rarely remained private for long. I was rather relishing being antisocial for a while. There was something wonderful about being able to go back to my flat, lock the door, disrobe to whatever degree I desired and read a book or what have you until I felt like going to bed, all without being watched or interrupted.

I spent much of the next day roaming Ostwick. As I explored, I noticed the phenomenon I’d thought peculiar to the Traveller’s Rest seemed pervasive throughout the city: though people were friendly enough, it was in a distant way that didn’t encourage any real connection.There was a sort of benign coldness to the place. I didn’t know what to make of it, but it made me glad I had those letters of introduction from my father. I suspected using my family name was one of the only things that would get an Ostwicker to pretend to care enough to give me a chance.

Though Ostwick was still well away from the worst of the unrest, there were signs of it everywhere. Supplies coming to and from the port were all escorted under guard. Mercenaries and other armoured men and women were a common sight as they passed through the city on their way to the places their services were desired. I saw a few groups of templars in full armour pass by, and other groups that wore bits and pieces of templar armour but were clearly no longer with the order. Once I saw a group of half a dozen mages striding through the city, staffs in harnesses on their backs, their expressions grim and watchful but unafraid. The city Watch was also in evidence everywhere — I had to give them credit for keeping things from getting out of control.

That night, back at my regular spot at the Rest, I got caught completely off-guard. I’d finished eating and settled in for my regular evening of observing when one of the locals — a ginger-haired dwarf — approached my table. “You mind?” he said as he sat in the empty chair next to me.

“Go right ahead.” I kept my expression friendly-neutral, hiding the rather silly moment of panic I was experiencing internally. “Can I help you?”

“Couldn’t help but notice you seem to have laid claim to this table. You live here, or are you on one mother of a long business trip?”

“Just moved here,” I said. “Still learning my way about.” 

“Ah.” He gave a curt nod. “Well, name’s Barron, and we was wondering-“

 _If you’re a mage, because you sure bloody look like one,_ my mind filled in as it tried to panic again.

“- if you happened to play Wicked Grace,” the dwarf continued. “We’re down a man tonight and it ain’t the same when you only got three players.”

I'm sure I looked gobsmacked, but he didn’t seem to notice. It hadn’t crossed my mind that someone might invite me to play cards. “Actually, I do play now and then,” I said.

He gave another curt nod. “Feel like joinin’ us?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” I followed him to their table where introductions were made. The other two were Odila, a dark-complected woman around my age with startling blue eyes, and Anselm, a reedy man in his mid to late thirties with sun-chapped skin and a wispy beard. I had a much more enjoyable evening than I’d anticipated, and managed to field all questions with comfortably vague answers. It helped that once names were exchanged, the conversation was all about cards and local happenings; no one was interested in personal details.

Even after some hours of supposed camaraderie, that Ostwick coldness held true. When the game broke up for the night, not one of them suggested getting together again, asked what I might be doing or where I lived…nothing. Barron said, “Any time you’re around, you’re welcome in the game now,” but that was the full extent of their friendliness. I wasn’t sure if I was pleased about that.

**###**

The job I’d decided sounded most appealing was at a scrivener’s, so first day of the week I went there with my letter of introduction. The scrivener — a woman of about forty alliteratively named Aislinn Alloway — asked me a few basic questions, ran me through a battery of tests I could have done in my sleep, complimented the neatness of my printing, and just that easily I was gainfully employed. My primary work was to be writing things for other people. She laughed when I was skeptical about how much business that could possibly bring in, saying, “You’re a Trevelyan, all right.”

“What does _that_ mean?”

“It means you assume most people are fully literate because most of the people you’ve ever known are. Am I correct?”

“Well…yes,” I admitted. Everyone in the Circle was literate (not that I mentioned that) as well as everyone I remembered growing up. It honestly hadn’t occurred to me that some people weren't. 

Aislinn promised me the truth would be made clear to me in no time. “Understand — most people these days can read enough to get by. They can sign a contract, read those silly circulars that are so popular these days and probably write a letter to dear old mum, but when it comes to something that needs to sound correct or professional, that’s where we come in. The bulk of your work will be transforming poorly written or -ahem- colourfully dictated things into nicely written things. It can be aggravating at times, but I think you’ll enjoy it.”

That was one of the reasons she’d been so pleased with my printing. The job sounded appealingly like there would be some variety courtesy of our writing-deprived customers as well as times where I would be left alone to disappear inside a manuscript. I would happily find ways to maintain my recently-improved physique outside of work hours.

The next week was eye-opening. I knew between being raised in the nobility then locked in a Circle, I'd been in a strange, sheltered world my whole life, but now I was seeing just how sheltered it really had been. There, the only time you talked to people outside your social circle was usually to request they fetch or do something for you. The people in the Circle were originally from all walks of life, but most of them had been brought to the Circle as young children — my being thirteen when I’d been taken was unusually old. As a result, those class differences weren’t as deeply set and disappeared fairly quickly under the Circle's homogeneous culture.

In the first few days alone at my new job I talked to everyone from an angry shopkeeper who’d been shorted by his Ferelden supplier to an illiterate elven man who was desperately trying to get his wife out of prison after her employer had accused her of stealing. It made me rethink the way I related to people. I started reminding myself to judge individuals by their own behaviour rather than make blanket assumptions about groups of people. The latter manner of thinking is what ultimately resulted in _lock up all the mages forever_ , after all.


	7. In the Flat Field

A week or so later I was sitting at my usual table in the Traveller’s Rest. I’d started to branch out as far as where I ate and was getting to know my neighborhood, but the Rest still felt the most comfortable. I’d opted out of the card game because I wasn’t in the mood to socialize after talking to people at work all day. I’d just gotten another beer and had fallen into a half-doze when someone said, “Kai?”

I started slightly and looked up at the young man with spiky brown hair and blue-grey eyes. “Ryton? Maker, I almost didn’t recognize you without your armour. This is a definite improvement. Please, have a seat.”

“Thanks.” He smiled. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s been a long week.”

“I hear you. Oh, and the armour’s a thing of the past now.”

“You’ve left the order, then?”

He nodded. “Just like I said, though it took me a fortnight. Been staying out at my parents’ place while I decide what to do with my life. You might be interested to know that before I left a few of the others had decided to follow your example.”

“Really? Who?” He named a few names that didn’t surprise me and one that did by its absence. “You mean Tasha’s still there?”

“That friend of yours with the blonde hair and the penchant for dramatic cloaks?” I nodded. “I think she’s trying to talk someone else into going with her. She asked me if I’d let her through when the time came, but I ended up leaving before she did.”

We talked a while longer, mostly about adventures in moving and random things and people from our days in the Circle. Our conversation was a bit stilted because we were both being careful to talk around where we knew each other from. Neither of us wanted anyone overhearing anything to do with the Circle or mages or templars, and a muffling spell wasn’t proof against someone who was really determined to listen. There were times coming up with a method to say something specific in a vague enough way was tricky. We decided to get together the next night, meeting at the Rest again. We’d have to see where it went from there.

**=#=**

When I entered the Rest the next evening, I wasn’t entirely sure I should be there. I’d wrestled with whether agreeing to meet Ryton Marchant was a good idea all day. In a way, I supposed I owed it to him. He wasn’t a bad man, and he was reasonably good-looking but…he’d been a templar, and he’d been a templar specifically ordered to watch me and my fellow mages with the understanding that he would kill us if so ordered. _But he’s left, so he’s not a templar anymore_ , I’d remind myself. _But he was one for years, which means in every interaction he had power over you_ , my self would answer, and round and round I went. I’d decided to follow through with the meeting partly to stomp all over my trepidations and, aside from kind of owing him, I was curious. I really had no idea how this would play out.

I got a beer and headed to my table, feeling unreasonably miffed to see Ryton already sitting there. Silly of me to feel possessive of a table in a bar and I knew it, yet I still felt that way. He raised his beer and said, “Hello, Kai. I wasn’t completely sure you’d show up. I’m glad you did — after a few hours I’m sure it would have been obvious to everyone I’d been stood up.”

I smiled. “What can I say — I’m curious what will come of this. Were you waiting long?”

“No, just long enough for one beer.”

“Can I ask you something?” I took a drink as he said yes. “Last night...was it coincidence that you were in here?”

He looked down at the table then back up. “Truthfully? No. I was hoping I’d run into you, so I’d been checking out likely places the last few days.”

I grinned. “You find me that alluring?”

He gave me a crooked smile back. “We can discuss that later. I…this will probably sound odd and pathetic, but I wanted to see a familiar face.”

I’m sure I looked as puzzled as I felt. “I thought you grew up in Ostwick. Surely you must still know quite a few people.”

“I do…but I don’t.” He sighed. “I- damn. There are too many things we can’t talk about here. Is there somewhere else we can go?”

I wasn’t sure it was a good idea, but I said, “Seeing as you live with your parents, perhaps my place would be best.”

“I’ll buy the beer,” Ryton said.

**=#=**

We entered my flat and I could see Ryton’s surprise as he looked it over. “This is nice. I didn’t expect rugs and armchairs, let alone that bed. Where should I put the beer?”

I chuckled. “You mean it doesn’t match the neighbourhood? There’s an icebox right there.”

He deposited the beer, keeping one bottle each out. “Well, this isn’t the nicest part of town. I suppose you can ward your doors and windows against break-ins, though.”

I nodded. “It helps. It also helps to be on the third floor.” 

“It looks like you managed to land on your feet. Are the facilities..?”

“Out at the end of the hall. It hasn’t been a walk in the park, but I’m making do. I have to admit the parents helped out.” I took my beer and cooled it with a small ice spell. “You want?” I asked. He nodded so I cooled his too. Rather than the armchairs, we sat at either side of my kitchen table (okay, I didn’t actually have a kitchen, but it was the sort of table you sat at as opposed to a coffee table). For a few moments we just stared at one another.

“So,” I said, “you were telling me how you do but don’t know anyone here?”

He nodded, looking relieved. “Yes. I _knew_ all sorts of people here. But when I joined the templars, they sent me away for training and after that they assigned me to places. Ostwick wasn’t my first. I spent some time in Markham guarding a door — they never did tell me what I was guarding — then they sent me into the field to hunt apostates for a time. I didn’t like that one bit; every outcome was ugly, it seemed to me. My commander saw I didn’t have the stomach for it and rather than discipline me, got me assigned to your Circle. After that, well, you know. The thing is, when I moved back home, those people I’d grown up with? None of them have ever left Ostwick. They never even _wanted_ to. So while I was off _doing_ things, they were following in their parents’ footsteps, taking the same jobs their families have had for generations. They were getting married, having children and worrying about whether the Teyrn was going to raise taxes next year, you know?”

“I get the idea,” I said.

“So when I went to look up my old friends, they were mostly happy to see me but…we had nothing to say to one another. They couldn’t fathom what my life was like and they didn’t really care, and I found them…well, boring. It was all stories about their children and things going on in Ostwick and they most of them have almost _no_ interest in anything beyond that. If they had babies I’d inevitably be made to look at them and carry on about how stunning they were. I’m here to tell you that’s bloody _excruciating_."

I laughed. “I haven’t had much experience, thankfully, but don’t all babies look pretty much alike?”

“Andraste’s balls, do they ever,” he groaned. “Then we’d inevitably end up sitting about reminiscing about the old days and then run out of things to say. I got tired of every conversation trailing off into uncomfortable silences until we could come up with polite ways to end them and I could leave. Have you had anything like that happen?”

“I haven’t tried to find anyone. I was only thirteen when the templars took me. I imagine if I did find anyone from back then they’d either not remember me or they’d remember all too well _why_ I suddenly disappeared and not want anything to do with me.”

He flushed. “Of course. I’m sorry. I suppose I’ve just been feeling rather lonely and hard done by. I’m sure it’s been harder for you.”

I shrugged. “I have very little to compare it to. I expected setting up a life to be challenging, but I have no idea where I am on the scale.”

“Well, seeing as you have your own place and I’m still at my parents’, I’d say you’re one up on me,” he said with a wry smile.  

I snorted. “I’m thirty-one years old, just moved into my very first flat and got my very first job and had to get help from my parents with both. You’re…how old? Younger than me, I’d say.”

“Twenty-four. And I’ve never had my own flat, I just quit the only job I’ve ever had and I’m _living_ with my parents.”

“All right, I’ll allow that we’re equally pathetic.”

He laughed and took a healthy swallow of beer.

“Are you planning on staying in Ostwick?” I asked.

“I…don’t know. Are you?”

“I don’t want to,” I said. “I don’t know if it’s just me, but there’s something…cold about Ostwick. It’s not a very nice place.”

“Andraste’s tits, I thought it was just _me,_ ” he said, eyes wide. “I never noticed when I was growing up, but now that I’m on the outside, you’re exactly right. Even though everyone’s nice enough, it’s like no one wants to get to know you. They just want you to finish whatever you're doing and move on.”

"That's Ostwick, all right." We toasted each other. “So what are you going to do?”

He frowned. “Well…first thing is to figure out what I’m going to do about the lyrium.”

I looked at him blankly. “Lyrium?”

“Yes, the- how much do you actually know about the templars, anyway? Did they teach you anything about us- them?”

"Aside from the historical facts?" I thought about it. “Templars are the Chantry’s hounds. They’re trained to stop mages. They can block magic. They find us when we’re young and take us away to be locked into Circles for the rest of our lives. They hunt us and kill us. They’re necessary at Harrowings. They can and occasionally do get permission to annihilate entire circles of mages, so maker help you if they think your circle’s getting out of hand. They watch. Always. Like you’re some fucking dangerous animal inexplicably allowed to roam the halls. Most are just regular people doing their jobs, but the bad ones can be a waking nightmare. They can do anything from physically and sexually assault you to order you made Tranquil to outright kill you and there isn’t a fucking thing you can do about it. Oh, and they’re also there to protect mages from all the fine, baseline citizens who’d rather just see us all put to death. I think that about covers it.”

He exhaled slowly. “Maker’s breath…that was a little harsher than I expected.”

“You asked.” I wasn’t going to apologize.

“I did, didn’t I? For what it’s worth, I hope you know I don’t agree with everything that’s been done to you mages. I did when I first joined, thought it was for your own good, to keep you safe, but I was just a dumb orchardist’s son with a head stuffed full of heroic fantasies.”

I relented enough to say, “Don’t worry, I don’t hate _you_. Besides, you left the order.”

“Which brings us to the lyrium. When mages take lyrium, what does it do to you?”

I fetched us another beer each and chilled them. “They say it strengthens our connection to the Fade, and that’s where the power originates. Spellcasting consumes magical power, and though it recharges reasonably quickly, it’s not always quick enough. Lyrium replaces the power we’ve used up in seconds rather than waiting minutes for it to recharge naturally.”

“That’s all? You don’t start feeling like you need it or anything?”

“I never have. I haven’t talked to anyone who has, either.”

“You know lyrium is what gives templars their special abilities, yes?”

“I thought it was some special, secret training, then you use lyrium to trigger the power? Enhance it?”

“Close enough,” he said with a shrug. “Well. What they don’t let everyone know is it’s also addictive. You stop the lyrium once they’ve got you taking it and you go through withdrawal. It’s a horrible experience, apparently, but so are the effects of long-term lyrium addiction. I haven’t been taking it that long, comparatively, and I’ve been very careful with it, but I do need to have it to stay normal. So I have to decide whether to go through the withdrawal or try to maintain on the lowest dose possible and hope I can find a supply. Once I’ve done that, I can start to make plans.”

I ran a hand across my head; it felt slightly sandpapery with stubble. “Well, fuck me. So the Chantry keeps its hounds firmly on the leash by turning them all into addicts. My regard for them grows with every passing moment. I know it’s not my business, but I’d vote for enduring the withdrawal. Then you’re free of them _and_ the addiction and you’re young enough you can still choose to do whatever you want.”

“You’re right, of course,” he said. “But frankly, the prospect of withdrawal is terrifying.”

“It’ll only get worse the longer you wait.”

“I know.” He sighed. “And you see, it’s this sort of thing I can’t talk to anyone about. They don’t understand and they don’t want to hear it. _The Chantry made me an addict_ isn’t really much of an icebreaker.”

I snorted laughter, drawing a stung look from Ryton. “Sorry, but it does sound like something you could easily sell to some of the more sensational circulars out there.”

He smiled with some reluctance. “It does, doesn’t it. But people only want to read sensational exaggerations about it; they don’t want to actually hear about it in real life.”

“True — if it doesn’t involve something tawdry or violent (preferably both), people don’t much care. I can’t even tell anyone what I am, let alone what difficulties that may be giving me,” I agreed.

He tilted his head to one side like a curious puppy. “Is it difficult, not doing magic at all?”

I chewed the inside of my lip, thinking how best to put it. “Not so much difficult as…annoying. It’s like being told you have to do everything the hard way all of a sudden. I can still do some, but it has to be subtle if anyone’s around. I don’t much like it, but I like getting lynched even less.”

He smiled. “My sympathies. I have to admit there are days I miss things like mage-lights.”

“You know, there is one thing I’m wondering.”

“What’s that?”

“Aside from this whole mage/templar/starting over thing, do _we_ actually have anything to talk about?”

He blew out a puff of air. “That’s a good question. Hopefully we’ll find we do. Which brings me to something _I’ve_ been wondering.” He took another large swallow of beer as I raised a questioning eyebrow. Stifling a burp, he looked me in the eyes. “This last year, you know I’ve been flirting with you, yes?”

“Yes,” I said, smiling slightly.

“And it’s not my imagination that you’ve flirted back.”

“No.”

“So was that just to get me to let you out of the Circle, or did you mean it?”

I sipped my beer. “Yes and yes. I wanted out of that damned Circle from the day they locked me in, but you’ll note I wasn’t attempting to chat up any of the other templars.”

He gave me goofy smile. “Then you won’t mind my confessing I wasn’t looking for you just for some congenial conversation?”

“Not at all.”

He traced a finger through the ring of water his beer bottle had left on the table. “So are you one of those guys who wants to get to _really know_ their partner first, or could we see if we’re compatible in a carnal way?”

I was seriously debating the wisdom of it. I could see drawbacks to getting involved with Ryton even if it stayed casual. Problem was, the cautious part of my mind was getting loudly and insistently overruled by other parts that had felt sorely neglected over the years. “I suppose I know you well enough,” I allowed.

“So… should we? I mean, there’s no reason to wait, yeah?”

“I suppose not.” We stood. Suddenly I felt horribly self-conscious. I could still picture him in his damned templar armour, always _watching_. I gave my head a shake. “Sorry, I just…this feels weird. You know?”

“I know. So let’s make it not weird.” He closed the distance between us and kissed me. I tensed for a moment as _(templar)_ flashed through my mind, banished that thought and kissed him back. It was more pleasant than I’d expected, as was the knowledge that for the first time I wouldn’t have to worry about getting caught or watched by anyone. His hands slid around my waist and under my shirt as he ran them up my back and raked back down with his nails; it felt really fucking good. I made some sort of involuntary noise, reached under his shirt and slid my hands up his sides, adding a frisson of electricity to my action. He gasped, eyes wide and pupils dilated. We’d barely done anything, and I was already hard enough that it was getting almost painful.

We broke apart for a few moments to attend to the business of disrobing and I lowered the lights just a bit with a thought. He looked me up and down and grinned. “You know, you look better than I thought you would. More streamlined.”

“Yeah, loading heavy shite onto carts for a few weeks’ll do that. You’re not so bad yourself,” I said. I wasn’t kidding. He had what I believe they term an _athletic_ build — smoothly muscled without being overly bulky or hairy — which I liked very much. “So are we going to stand around talking all bloody night?”

“I’m about talked out at the moment.” I let him push me back onto the bed. He kissed me again, then slowly worked his way down to take me in his mouth and I stopped worrying about whether this was weird or not. I didn’t even get round to returning the favour; just worked him with my hands and my magic, showing him some of the positive aspects of being (or at least sleeping with) a mage. That first time didn’t take long, but the urgency of it left us both gasping at the end. Once we were both breathing normally, he looked at me and grinned. “Well, I’d say we seem to be compatible.”

“We do at that,” I agreed lazily, luxuriating in the fact that I didn’t have to hurriedly get myself dressed and in order before anyone noticed. “I suppose at least we’ll always have sex to fall back on if we find we don’t have much else in common.”

“What a comforting thought. You think more than twice in a night would be excessive?”

“…Nah.”

**###**

Sadly, my words that night turned out to be prescient. We saw each other a few days after that, talked about what he should do about the lyrium problem, things that had happened in the Circle in the past and some local gossip, then had sex. Three days after that: met, had drinks, talked about my work day, his parents, people we'd known in the Circle, had sex. A week later: Caught up on what we'd done all week and some local gossip, had sex. Week after that: after a conversation that went nowhere, went to a play for something to do that didn’t involve talking, went back to my place, had drinks, had sex.  Four days later: went to my place, had drinks and sex. Pretty much every time after that: refer to the previous entry.

It wasn’t that we disliked each other; we just had virtually no common interests. We’d both become aware very quickly that nothing deeper was going to develop, but neither of us had any close friends in Ostwick and the regular sex wasn’t an easy habit to break, though even that was getting less satisfying. We had so little to say to each other that eventually it felt more like jerking off (we never went as far as anything penetrative; that would have involved more effort than either of us was willing to expend). 

As time went on, I discovered something about myself — hooking up just for sex wasn't something I could be satisfied with. It seemed I was predisposed to want some sort of actual relationship with the other man. I didn't know how that was supposed to happen in Ostwick, so I kept seeing Ryton out of habit and a vague feeling that some human closeness was better than none.

After a couple of months, Ryton came over to my place and sat at the table, saying, “Can we talk?”

“Of course.” By that time I was actually relieved he just wanted to talk.

“I just wanted you to know… I’m leaving Ostwick.”

“Really? What are you going to do?”

“One of the others who left the order looked me up. He’s gotten off lyrium and he said he’d help me. He lives in Hercinia now. I have an aunt there who might be able to get me on with the city guard once I’m off the lyrium. I think it’s the right thing for me to do.”

“That’s wonderful, Ryton. It sounds like the right thing to me too.” I meant that and honestly wished him well.

He smiled cautiously. “You don’t mind?”

I snort-laughed. “Ryton, we both know this wasn’t working. I like you, but we’re just too bloody different.”

He nodded emphatically. “Maker, I was afraid you might be upset. You’ve been as bored as me?”

“Unfortunately, yes. I like odd historical facts and clever plays on words and you like memorizing stats from every Grand Tourney that ever happened. That's our problem in a nutshell. I just had no idea how to gracefully end it.”

He mimed wiping sweat from his brow. “Well, then I’m glad for both of us. And I _need_ to get out of Ostwick. There’s nothing here for me.”

“Smart. I hope it all works out for you. When are you leaving?”

“In two days. I think my parents are relieved too. I’m -um- sorry we didn’t work out.”

“Me too. I don’t regret it, though. Some of it was fun.”

He laughed. “Yeah. I learned a few things. There’re definitely some things you do that I’ll miss. You, uh, want to one last time? For old times’ sake?”

I gave him a smile and a shrug. “Why not?”

So we did, and it wasn’t bad, probably because we knew it was the last time so we tried a little harder. Then we wished each other well and he left. I feel like I should say I was sad to see him go, but I wasn’t. I thought he was doing the right thing and actually felt a bit relieved that it was over.


	8. Night and the City

After Ryton left, I settled into something of a routine. Approaching four months outside the circle, I was getting comfortable with my ability to live in the real world. I still hadn’t let on to anyone I was a mage — the mage/templar conflict wasn’t losing momentum, and in response the Chantry and the loyal templars had stepped up their aggressions and the mages were responding accordingly. Add in the opportunist bandits and people who were using the conflict to indulge their own murderous fancies and it was a wonder anyone chose to travel outside the relative safety of the cities at all. There were ugly enough things going on _in_ the cities from all I’d heard.

Most of the time I didn’t see any of that. Every day after I got up I’d go to a nearby inn that sold coffee, have a few cups and breakfast, then go to work. After work I’d branched out as far as where I ate, but still ended up at the Rest if I felt social. The card game there was apparently an eternally running thing, and while I wouldn’t consider any of the other players friends — I’d met about five more regulars since I’d been accepted into their circle — they were at least congenial acquaintances. That seemed to be as far as Ostwick was willing to go with friendliness, but I mostly didn’t mind. There were many nights I was perfectly content to stay home and read or work on magical stuff that wasn’t loud or flashy enough to attract attention.

In the months I’d been in the city I’d not had one negative encounter. Ostwick’s indifference was mostly benign, and for all the troubles going on elsewhere, the most I’d seen was the Watch having to haul brawling drunks away to sleep it off. Because of that, I’d grown a bit lax in watching for danger. 

One night a few weeks after Ryton left, I got away from the Rest later than usual. I’d been having a surprising run of good hands at Wicked Grace, and by the time I decided it would be prudent to cash out I’d made a tidy sum in winnings. I walked my usual route back to my flat, but unusually, one of the street lamps was out, leaving a block-long section of near darkness ahead of me. I didn’t think anything other than to wonder if it would be safe to cast a small light spell.

So of course three shapes separated from the darkness to semi-surround me. A man said, “Hold up, baldy. Got any money?” His long knife glinted in a stray beam of moonlight.

I was momentarily distracted from the speaker because at the same time I felt one of them slap a weak stasis spell on me. It appeared I was being mugged by at least one fellow mage. My first instinct was to break the stasis spell, but I waited. “Do I look like I have money?”

“As a matter of fact, you do.” A woman’s voice. I didn’t know if she was the mage. “Hand it over and we’ll let you go.”

“You don’t want to do this,” I said. I was mentally readying the sorts of spells that your average citizen would never notice. When people think combat magic, they think it’s all lightning and fireballs. The truth is, once you’re skilled enough there are many subtle but effective spells you can use to take out your opponent. I was very skilled, though I did wish I’d been able to learn some of the spells to induce terror. If I’d had those I would have been able to send at least one or two of them fleeing, but the Chantry had decreed the Necromantic school of magic unsuitable and forbidden its teaching. Oh well.

“If we didn’t want to do this, we wouldn’t be,” the woman said.

“Stop stalling, baldy,” the man said. “Your money. Now. Then maybe we won’t hurt you.”

“Do it quick or we might hurt you anyway.” The third, another man, had circled behind me.

I sighed. “You know, I really don’t like being called baldy.” With that I broke the amateurish stasis spell, cast a barrier on myself, a constriction spell on the man behind me so he’d be more worried about trying to breathe, then hit the other two with simultaneous force spells to knock them back. Since it would be foolish to count on being able to outrun all of them, I instead sprinted for a recessed doorway. I made it, putting the door to my back and drawing my hunting knife. Now they’d only be able to come at me from one direction.

The man who kept calling me ‘baldy’ swore.

The woman, who’d just unsheathed a nasty-looking short sword, said, “What?” in a loud whisper.

The second man was gasping as he tried to draw breath into his lungs. The spell was wearing off, but slowly.

“He’s a fucking mage too,” One said.

“So? There’s three of us,” said the woman.

“So he’s fucking powerful. I’m not kidding.”

“Listen to your friend,” I said.

She edged closer. She looked fit, though I couldn’t tell much more in the darkness. “Then why’s he got a knife?”

“So I can show the Watch what I defended myself with,” I answered.

She said, “Shite. You’re bluffing.”

One said, “No, he’s not. Sheathe your sword.” He understood what casting that many effective spells in quick succession meant. “We’re going now. One mage to another, you know it ain’t easy out here, right?”

I said, “Just go before the bloody Watch shows up,” and resheathed my knife as they walked away. They kept their voices down, but it sounded like they were launching into an argument.

Something struck the side of my right thigh, hard. I looked down and saw the haft of a dagger sticking out of my leg. As the pain belatedly kicked in, Two said, “Bastard!”, spat at me and dashed off in the opposite direction from the other two. I’d made the mistake of forgetting about him.

I couldn’t go after him, or even see him to nail him with another non-visible spell. I needed to get out of there before the Watch showed up and I didn’t have time to do anything about the damned dagger. Last thing I needed was to be found bleeding with a knife in my hand. I cast a _don’t notice me_ spell and limped the rest of the way home, cursing the thug who threw it and myself for forgetting about him. Every time I took a step the thing seemed to saw a little deeper into my leg, going from uncomfortable to screaming pain as it did so. The three flights of stairs up to my flat were nearly my undoing. I ended up using the banister and my left leg, hauling myself up the steps while I tried to keep my right leg as stiff as possible. By the time I reached the top I was ready to just collapse on the floor, but I wanted the damned thing out of me more.

Once safely inside, I cast light and — after standing there gasping until the pain settled down to a dull roar — had a look at the damage. It was a small dagger, but he’d managed to put enough force into his throw that it had gone all the way in. Wanker. The walk home had exacerbated it, and my trousers were getting soaked with blood. I didn’t even have any extra alcohol on hand to deaden the pain of what I had to do.

Bracing myself, I yanked the little dagger out and cast a healing spell as quickly as I could. Healing’s one of my weakest abilities, so all I managed was to close the wound, but it was better than nothing. Then it was a matter of removing my boots and trousers without reopening the wound and cleaning up. I also now needed to repair the hole in my trousers. My leg was sore for several days after that and thanks to my less than stellar healing abilities I had a small scar, but I tried to look on it as an object lesson. It didn’t do to get too comfortable, no matter how deceptively safe things were. 


	9. The Past is Never Where You Think You Left It...

Another few weeks after my harrowing walk home, I was having a perfectly lovely staying-in night when someone knocked on my door, something that almost never happened. I opened it and froze, staring gobsmacked at the man standing there. He was a big man — not fat, just big — with close-cropped brown hair shot through with grey and a short but luxurious beard that was still mostly brown. His eyes were deep brown and intelligent. I felt a level of panicked terror I hadn’t experienced since the templars dragged me to the Circle when I was a boy.

“Hello, Kai,” said my former Circle’s First Enchanter, “May I come in?”

I nodded mutely and stepped aside to let him by, closed and locked my door and turned, resisting the urge to stand with my back against the door while I readied combat spells. He stood in the middle of the room, looked around at everything, then back at me and said, “Not bad. Tasteful and looks comfortable. I must admit I’m relieved to see you didn’t carry your penchant for black over to your décor. Would you mind if we sat?”

I nodded again, not quite trusting myself to speak yet. I wanted to scream _what are you doing here and how did you find me and I’m not going back,_ but I knew that would be childish. I felt sure that the moment I tried to say anything all that would come out would be an undignified squeak. I gestured that he should take a chair (I had two comfortable, oversized armchairs) and returned to my own. I noticed belatedly that rather than mage robes he was wearing regular clothes: brown leather boots, dark brown trousers and vest with a well-tailored shirt in a rather festive shade of blue.

He smiled at me. “Relax, Kai, I’m not here to drag you back.”

“I- um-” Andraste’s tits, I had no idea what I was even trying to say, “Good evening, First Enchanter.”

“First Enchanter?” he chuckled. “I think under the circumstances, Oliver will do.”

“Oliver,” I said faintly. I reached over to my little icebox and said, “Would you like a beer? Because I could certainly use one.” He said he would, so I got us each one and took a too-large swallow of mine. “So, um, to what do I owe the pleasure?” This came out in a tone that suggested I was attending a garden party.

“You may find this difficult to believe, but I wanted to see how you were faring,” he said, taking a more decorous swallow of his own drink. “I also wanted to give you something.”

“That’s- I mean- Sorry, but I don’t really know what to say,” I sputtered. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“That’s all right. I’m hoping you will by the time I leave. But I think I need to put your mind at ease first. You’re wondering how I found you, I imagine?”

I nodded.

“It’s exactly what you might suspect. I used this.” He pulled something out of his pocket: a small glass vial suspended in a round, metal frame. The vial was filled with a red liquid — my blood. “It took some finagling with what must be the last loyal templar in the Ostwick repository, but she finally gave in.” He held it out to me. “Go ahead. It’s yours.”

I took it from his hand and held it up to the light. Magic kept the blood fresh and liquid. They made one of those for every mage as soon as they possibly could after they seized you. It was how the templars could track you if you managed to escape. I slid the little glass vial out of the frame, tossing the latter aside. It was magically embossed with symbols I took to represent my name. I knew it was mine because it was glowing, as phylacteries do in the presence of the mage they were formed from. It had been a silent sword at my throat for eighteen years.

“I actually suspected you’d contacted my parents.” I gave him a bemused smile that quickly turned serious as I studied the cursed thing. “You know what I want to do with this.”

“Of course I do,” he nodded. “As I said, it’s yours. You may do whatever you wish with it.”

I looked around the room, got up to dig through my bureau and finally came up with an old washcloth. I set it on the wood floor, set the vial on top of it. I looked over at the Firs- Oliver. He just took a sip of his beer and nodded again. I folded the cloth over once then with every bit of force I could muster, drove the heel of my boot into it. The glass smashed. I drove my boot into it a few more times just to make sure before picking it up and opening it. The blood had soaked into the cloth and the glass was practically powder. I gave myself a minute to let that sink in, threw the cloth into my metal garbage can, took that over to the open window and incinerated the fucking thing. When I finished, the inside of the garbage can would never be quite the same, but all that remained of the vial was a few beads of melted glass.

"Better?" he asked.

"Much." I sat back down, feeling almost lightheaded. "Do tell me when it's time to wake up, would you?"

He laughed. "I assure you I'm no phantasm and this is no dream."

"Then pardon my obtuseness, but… _why_?"

"As I said, I wanted to see how you were faring. Now that I don't have to speak to you as your First Enchanter, there are things I think you deserve to know. I also understood coming here that you'd have no reason to trust me when I said I have no ulterior motives, so I thought your phylactery might be an appropriate peace offering."

"This isn't the part where you tell me you're my real father, is it?"

He smiled. "No, Emil is still the only one to hold that distinction. I _am_ here to assure you that no one will be coming after you to bring you back to Ostwick or any other circle. It would seem those days are nearly done, and while I couldn't tell you before, once you were trained I didn't think you or many of the others should have been forced to remain in the first place."

"Then why-" I stopped myself, "Stupid question. I…thank you seems weak, considering what you just did for me. But does that mean you _let_ me go, then?"

"Would there have been any point in trying to stop you?"

 _May as well tell him the truth_. "No. I'd decided one way or another I was leaving."

He raised an eyebrow. "And if the templars had decided to stop you?"

I shrugged. "I'd either have fought my way through them or made them kill me. Fortunately that didn't happen. Why would you do this for me? I mean, I appreciate it more than I can ever say, but…you're confusing the hell out of me."

He chuckled. "I suppose I am. It's simpler than you think, Kai. I've always felt responsible for all the mages in our Circle, but some of you I genuinely like. As First Enchanter I needed to keep a professional distance with you all, but now…the world's moving on, you know. The structures that commanded us are falling apart. I think for mages like you, it's the best thing that could happen. I do still feel a bit responsible, though, insofar as I’d like to offer any help you might need and if you’re comfortable with the thought, get to know you as an equal rather than have you thinking of me as your jailor.”

“Maker…” I exhaled slowly. “This is a lot to wrap my mind around. I mean, we always got on well enough and I appreciated how you fought to give us what freedoms you could, but…yeah. You were always part of the structure keeping me locked up. Us. You really think that?”

He squinted at me. “Think which?”

“That my leaving was good? You’re not angry? Obviously not, given you just brought me my phylactery to destroy,” I answered myself. I knew I was babbling but couldn’t seem to stop. “You actually care about me? I mean, I don’t know what I mean. Shite.”

“You might want to take a drink and a few deep breaths, son,” he said gravely.

I nodded and did both. “Sorry. I…wasn’t expecting this. Obviously. You scared the fuck out of me when I opened the door. Damn. Should I have said that?”

“I am acquainted with the more colorful facets of our language, you know. I even use them on occasion when I’m among friends. Do you have any more of that beer? I’ll gladly replace them.”

I handed him another and took one for myself. “You’re still with the Circle, though." I paused. "Um. You are, aren't you? I suppose these days I shouldn't assume."

"I am indeed. I just don't wear the uniform when I venture into town unless it's called for."

"What’s been going on there since I left?”

“I’m sure it won’t surprise you to hear others have followed your example.”

“I knew a few had. Ryton told me after _he_ left.”

“Ryton? Oh, the templar boy.” I nodded and listed off the mages he’d told me had left the Circle. He added more to that list, a few of which surprised me.

“And no one’s come to put a stop to it?” I asked.

“The templars are eating themselves alive. They’re every bit as fractured as our side, and the only ones still at the Circle are mostly those who don’t have anywhere else to go. This situation is going to get worse before it gets better, Kai. You’re well shut of it.”

“How long have you agreed I shouldn’t have been locked up in the Circle? I mean, you never let on.”

“I could hardly let on when there was no way to allow you to leave. I had overseers as well, you know.” I nodded acknowledgement of his point and he continued, “And how long? A good ten years if not a bit more. Since you were fully trained and then _over_ trained. I’ve seen many talented people go to waste over the years. It’s never gotten easier to just let that happen because of our draconian policies.”

“I did appreciate the training,” I said. “But why do _you_ stay now if you agree that the Circles are cruel and barbaric?”

He gave a small bark of a laugh. “I didn’t exactly say that. For _you_ they’re cruel and unnecessary. Not all mages feel the same, you know.”

“I could never fathom that,” I admitted.

“Many people prefer the safety of routine and rules. They _like_ knowing that they’re safe, that they’re going to be provided for, that they can spend their days quietly doing the things they like to do with their meals served to them, their clothes provided, all according to schedule. And those people don’t always do well out in the world, Kai. They don’t handle uncertainty well. Those are the ones who do things like panic and blow holes in the sides of buildings or people, or get themselves possessed because they’re frightened and want someone to make the decisions for them. They blunder into situations that others would have seen coming and get themselves hurt or killed, or join _causes_ just so they can be a part of something again. To them, the freedom you craved is terrifying. I believe someone needs to be there for them.”

“Maybe they wouldn’t be so weak if they hadn’t had all choice taken from them as children,” I said.

“I think you and my other talented malcontents put the lie to that,” he chided me. “Perhaps you’re right about _some_ of the others. They may have developed your strength of personality given more of an opportunity, but they didn’t. Would you have them abandoned because they’ve been essentially crippled?”

“Well, no, of course not. But-” I wasn’t sure but what. 

“But for you the Circle was torture, so you find it difficult to empathise?”

“…Yes,” I admitted. “I suppose that makes me a self-centred arsehole, doesn’t it.”

He snort-laughed. “It makes you human. It’s not easy to understand how your hell can be someone else’s paradise. But I’ve been in the system my entire life, and I’ve worked my way into a position where I not only have some degree of autonomy, but I can help other mages that otherwise might not have someone willing to stand up for them. The Circles have become something ugly, but I believe in their original vision. They should be a place for training and research and, yes, safety from the public who have had a tendency to hate and fear us.”

"They _should_ , but the Chantry threw that idea out the window."

"Did you know in Tevinter they still are that? It's considered quite an honor to be accepted into a prestigious Circle."

“Well, that's grand for Tevinter, but we're not there. All I ever wanted was the option to say _no, thank you_ once I was trained and have a fucking life.”

“Which is why I acknowledged the policies of the Chantry and by extension every government in southern Thedas have been draconian. I don’t support them, but I have tried to work within the system to at least make this little corner of it better. And now that it’s finally falling apart under the weight of its own corruption, I want to be there for the ones who’ve been left behind.”

I smiled wryly. “Which goes to prove you are a far better man than I. It’s too bad about those people, but I have to admit I’d leave every one of them to fend for themselves rather than go back. If it’s them or me, they can all drop bloody dead.”

"A little extreme, don't you think?"

"No. Being locked up like a fucking animal when I'd done nothing to warrant it was a _little extreme_ ," I snapped. "People preaching I've so little morality and self-control that I can't be trusted on my own recognisance is a _little extreme._ " 

“I knew you were unhappy, but was it really that bad?” He looked a little taken aback.

I just nodded. I could feel myself getting angry and wanting to shut down. Instead I took a drink to buy myself the few extra moments to get the anger under control then said, “Talented malcontents?”

He let me change the subject with a slight smile. “My private designation for my brightest and most troublesome mages. That would be you and,” he named a handful of others. “I’ll have you know we went to a great deal of trouble to keep you all sufficiently engaged and challenged over the years.”

“You’re admitting we got special treatment?”

“Absolutely. To protect both you and the Circle. Every one of you was powerful, strong-willed and bright enough to understand exactly what was being done to you and resent it. If the leadership of a Circle doesn’t address that sort of thing, you end up with rebellions and worse.”

“What’s worse than rebellions in a Circle?”

“I’ve seen mages just like you made Tranquil because they were too troublesome and the templars or even senior enchanters tired of them. Others became violent and abusive or gave up and devoted their considerable talents to drugging themselves into a permanent stupor. Some killed themselves. The Chantry, of course, kept any word of how many people ended up destroyed in one way or another quiet, just as they did with the other abuses that have gone on. That’s what I mean when I say I wanted to help. As First Enchanter I’ve been in a position to try to ensure that didn’t happen in my Circle — to make damn sure my talented malcontents wouldn’t go down that path.” He looked a little rebellious himself as he said that.

“I take it not everyone agreed with you?” 

The noise he made wasn’t quite a laugh. “Son, believe me when I tell you not all was harmonious between Circles. I've been fortunate that Ostwick is a fairly small Circle and we’re considered something of a backwater. None of the truly ambitious wanted to be assigned here, whether they were templars or senior enchanters. That’s why our templars have always tended to be local men and women or older people who just wanted a nice, quiet assignment to end their career with.”

“What about the Chantry? They’ve always been bloody powerful here.”

“Powerful but complacent,” he said with a slight smirk. “As long as they didn’t hear anything, they’ve had no interest in riding a whole hour out of town just to look in on us. They nosed around a bit after the incident in Kirkwall — got a bit paranoid that _all_ the mages might be planning to blow up their own local Chantries — but when they didn’t find anything untoward, they left us alone again.”    

Bemused, I said, “So all the extra time and attention we were given, working with you and the senior enchanters personally on projects — that was all to keep us on the right side of sanity?”

“An  interesting way to put it, but apt,” he said.

“Hunh. I always thought it was because of my family’s money and status.”

He laughed. “And what of those who didn’t have wealthy families?”

“I just figured one way or another it was all political,” I admitted. “Clearly I didn’t give you enough credit.”

“You weren’t supposed to know. I was afraid it might backfire if you did. There were those accusing me of coddling you, and the majority of you wouldn’t have reacted well to the idea that you were being coddled to prevent you from turning self- or outwardly destructive.”

“You were probably right. I would have been offended on principle and assumed it was to control us in some ghastly way. I _did_ enjoy working with you, though.”

“As did I. You’re impressively talented, Kai; I hope you don’t abandon higher magic now that you’re out.”

I shook my head. “I won’t, though I’ve had to put it on the back burner lately. I can do a little work in here, but I’ve not let on to anyone that I _am_ a mage. It’s too dangerous, especially while I’m getting established out here.”

“Sad, but smart,” he said. “The other advantage to working with you one-on-one is I got to know each of you. In your case, I have to say despite everything that’s happened, you’ve become a good man. Thus the social aspect of this visit. I always enjoyed talking to you, and thought a friendship would be worth pursuing if ever we were outside the Circle.”

“I… Thank you, Fir- Oliver. I think I’d enjoy that too.” I sipped my drink and said, “I don’t think it’s just me — Ryton saw it too — but there's something unfriendly about Ostwick. Everyone seems determined to keep you at arms’ length if you’re not already a charter member in whatever little clique they’re a part of.”

“It’s not just you. Ostwick’s always been like that,” he said, looking perplexed. “I can’t explain why. It’s the friendliest unfriendly city you’ll ever visit. I’ve been here over twenty years and can only think of one person in the entire city I’d consider a friend. Perhaps two, if you and I don’t find we despise one another after a time.”

“I don’t think that’s likely,” I said. “Though calling you Oliver is going to take some getting used to. So what do you do when you’re not First Enchantering?”

**=#=**

We talked for several more hours that first night, and I discovered I liked Oliver Caudill very much. (Not in a romantic sense — he’s not attracted to men and even if he was, he’s definitely not my type.) Away from the Circle and divested of the need to keep a professional distance, he was clever and interesting and possessed a dry sense of humour that matches my own very well. He’s a history buff and his breadth of magical knowledge is little short of amazing. He has a weakness for schlocky adventure novels that I share, and opera, which I don’t. He also understood me without my needing to explain what I meant every other sentence and our personalities meshed in a way I’d never had with Ryton. It was the first time in months I’d had a conversation that felt effortless.

The first hints of false dawn were appearing when he took his leave. We made plans to get together again soon and I had one of the better sleeps I’d managed in weeks. Though my life has taken me far from Ostwick, we’ve remained good friends to this day.


	10. Family Matters

Once more my life lapsed into routine, though the addition of Oliver's friendship made it more enjoyable. With his encouragement I started doing more magical work (still keeping to the sorts of things that the neighbors wouldn't notice) and was a bit surprised how much I'd missed it. We even collaborated on a few small projects and I was reminded how extensive his breadth of magical knowledge was. He'd earned his position. He was also generous with that knowledge and I learned a great deal from him.

One day my parents came into town and took me out to dinner. They didn't bring Danae because she'd moved in with a friend after a particularly big blow-up over her future plans. She'd gotten it into her head that she wanted to learn silversmithing of all things, and my parents were dead set on her going to university. I wondered idly if that sort of thing would have happened between them and me (likely not, since I'd always liked the idea of attending university) and realized a much bigger problem would have been in the offing when they discovered I had no intention of marrying a nice noble girl and producing a series of new Trevelyans. My being a mage had already blown any plans they may have had in that direction, so I put it out of my mind. I had more immediate things to worry about.

The dinner itself went well; it was when they wanted to see my flat that things started to get a little dodgy. Though they didn't say anything, it was clear from the looks on their faces that they thought the neighbourhood was dreadful. They didn't look thrilled with the interior of my apartment building either, but refrained from commenting as they climbed the stairs to the third floor. I felt fortunate that my flat was in the back corner of the building; they looked like they expected to be mugged before they reached the end of the hallway.

We entered the apartment and I turned on the lights with a thought. I'd imbued some old glass fishing floats I'd cadged down at the docks with a permanent lighting spell, so all I had to do was trigger it on to have clean, steady light without worrying about it decaying over time. I'd devised the spell myself and was rather proud of it. Oliver had been pleased and encouraged me to continue experimenting. My parents were startled when I triggered the spell, uncomfortable when I explained what it was, and kept looking at my lights suspiciously the entire time they were there.

Still, everyone was trying very hard to be decent. They knew I didn't like wine, so they'd brought beer and a bottle of Antivan brandy for me as a sort of housewarming gift. We opened the brandy and hit another awkward moment when I realized I only had two drinking glasses; I solved that by pouring their drinks first and drinking mine out of the bottle. Not the most elegant solution, but it worked. They were a bit nonplussed at the thought that my entire home consisted of one large room, but allowed that I'd made it look quite nice. My mother was more than a little put out to discover the facilities were down at the other end of the hall and used by everyone on the floor (personally I felt lucky it wasn’t one of the buildings that still had an outdoor privy). I couldn’t blame her, I suppose. She put on a brave face and survived the experience, though Father insisted on teasing her about it.

For a time, everything was actually rather pleasant. Then my mother said, “Kai,” in that tone of voice people use when they’re going to _bring something up_. Father looked at her sharply and said “Jasia.” I knew he was alarmed when he used her full name.

She looked at us both, her mouth set in a thin, straight line that I remembered well from when I was a boy. It meant she had something to say and she was bloody well going to say it, consequences be damned.

I knew there was no stopping her, so I took a slug of brandy and said, “What is it, Mother?”

“I was wondering — now, this is just a suggestion — I’ve talked to some people off and on over the years about…what you are-” 

"What I am?" I echoed, thinking _Andraste's tits, you still can't even bring yourself to say it._

She frowned — I don't know if it was about my being a mage or because I interrupted her — and continued, "You know. But what with the trouble your being- well, that your having magic has caused and it doesn’t look like there’s any end to _that_ in sight, if anything it’s getting worse what with all the fighting, so if there’s a possibility-”

“Mother, I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”

She made a frustrated noise. “I’m _talking_ about you being- having this magic. The thing is, people say there’s a way they can… _remove_ that from you so you’re not magic any more. I was thinking you might consider that.”

For a long moment all I could do was stare at her as I tried to process what she’d just said. Finally I said softly, “You have no idea what you just suggested.”

“It just occurred to me — to us — that that could solve so many of your problems,” she persisted.

“NO,” I snapped, “You have _no idea_ what you just suggested. What you’re talking about is called being made Tranquil-”

“That’s it!” she interrupted happily, “I knew it sounded peaceful.”

“ _Stop_ it, Mother. Just listen, would you? Being made Tranquil doesn’t just cut you off from your magic; it cuts you off from your _self_. It strips you of your _soul_.”

“Honestly, Kai, there’s no need to descend into hyperbole,” she snapped back at me.

“Hy- maker’s fucking breath, it’s not bloody hyperbole!” Now I was angry. “When you’re made Tranquil, that’s it. _You_ are gone. Everything you cared about — gone. Everything you loved — gone. Humour, anger, compassion — all gone. It gets stripped out of you. No feelings, no emotions, no attachments, no _nothing_ but your intellect left. It’s the worst fucking thing you could _do_ to a mage.”

“There’s no need to swear at me. I just thought it sounded like an idea,” she said, getting louder too.

“Well it’s a horrible idea. _Think_ about what I just said. Try to imagine it. Because I’ve _seen_ it and it’s awful. Not to mention, did you once think that maybe I don’t _want_ to get rid of my magic?” I saw identical blank expressions on their faces and snorted. “You didn’t, did you? Well, listen to me: I didn’t plan on becoming a mage, but I’ll have you know I’m a damn good one. I’ve worked very hard to learn what I know and I’m bloody proud of what I can do. I’m also very fucking powerful — wherever the talent came from, I got the deluxe package. I _like_ being a mage. I just don’t like the treatment I get because I am one. If you came to me with a ‘cure’ that would just make me a normal, non-magical man I’d tell you to go fuck yourselves. I can’t make it much clearer than that.”

“I see they didn’t teach you elocution at that place,” Father said.

I gaped at him. “Did you hear one _thing_ I just said?”

“I heard you,” he said testily. “You like being a mage. Bully for you.”  

I traded the brandy for a beer that I chilled in front of them. I couldn’t sit still any longer so I stood and started pacing. “‘Bully for you’? That’s all you have to say?”

He stood too, taking a deliberate sip of his brandy before saying, “We were thinking of _you_. If you didn’t have the magic, you could get your title and birthright back. You’d be our heir again.”

“Obviously that can’t happen, since the Tranquil thing doesn’t sound like it works very well, but really, Kai, it’s a little selfish of you to be that adamant about it. What if someone _does_ find a cure?” my mother chimed in in her _I am oh-so-reasonable_ voice that was just as aggravating as I remembered.

“It’s not a fucking _disease_ , for pity’s sake!” I glared at her. "How about this instead — they stop locking mages up and stripping them of their titles and birthrights?"

"Chantry'd never stand for it," Father said laconically.

“Is this why you came to see me? To try and get me to take some cockeyed _cure_ you thought you’d heard of so I wouldn’t be a fucking embarrassment to you anymore?” 

“We came to see you because you’re our son. You needn’t get so bloody hostile; I had nothing but good intentions. I _thought_ it might help,” she said scowling.

“You mean you thought it would help _you_. You’ve always _hated_ that I’m a mage,” I accused her, “You won't even bloody say the word. Like I had a choice in the matter. And even if I had, couldn’t you just accept that’s what I am?”

She just glared at me. Father was hanging back, ostensibly looking out the window and letting us duke it out. 

I took a few large gulps of beer and had to stifle an undignified burp. I was just buzzed and angry enough that I decided I may as well tell them the rest. “Besides, even if you got your way and I became magically unmagical, you _still_ wouldn’t get your way.”

“Now what are you on about?” My father finished his drink and fetched the bottle, pouring himself another.

“Just that the two of you weren’t thinking about _me_ , not really. Let me ask you — if I’d said ‘why yes, that would work, how nice of you to remind me’ and went and made myself unmagical, what did you think would happen?”

“Is ‘unmagical’ a word?” Father mused aloud.

“Em, _really_ ,” Mother snapped. “Obviously we thought you’d come back to take your rightful position in Ostwick,” she said to me, back to her _reasonable_ tone. “I was talking to Felicity Auffret, and you may not realize, but her daughter Breana isn’t _that_ much younger than you —lovely girl, plays the harp — and she’s unattached, so-”

“HAH. I _knew_ it!” I took a celebratory drink.

“Knew what?” Father said.

“That is what I was on about. Regardless of how magical I am, I’ll have you know you would have been doomed to disappointment. You see, I’m not _attracted_ to women.”

I got the dual blank looks again as Mother pursed her lips. “Not attracted?”

“Not,” I repeated. “As in, she could be the most beautiful woman in the world. You could stick her naked in bed next to me and the only thing she’d get out of me is a pleasant conversation. I _like_ women a great deal, but not in a romantic way. I’m attracted to men. Always have been.”

Father gave my mother a narrow look and said, “Oswin.”

She rolled her eyes at him and said to me, “Obviously this is a moot point, but if you were -um- unmagical, you couldn’t just do your family duty and have someone more to your tastes on the side?”

I leaned against my dresser and shook my head. “ _No_. It would be a horrible situation for everyone. And I told you, nothing happens with women, okay?”

“There are ways to get it to,” Father said as though he was discussing the weather.

I stared at them. “Who _are_ you people? This is officially making me uncomfortable now.”

“Sorry,” Father said, not sounding sorry at all. “As your mother said, it’s a moot point anyway. You’re a mage and you always will be. I expected as much.”

“I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad, Kai. I suppose I was just being silly,” Mother said. “We really were thinking of you. It just seemed to us your life would be so much less difficult if you were…”

“Normal?” I supplied. “Look, despite the difficulties, I don’t _want_ to be normal. The _only_ thing I despised about being a mage was being locked in that cursed Circle, and even then I didn’t hate my _self_ , I hated the people and system that had forced me in there. Now I’m out. And while I’m deeply grateful for the help you’ve been giving me, even if you cut me off tomorrow I’d still choose the life I have over being lord of the manor.”

My father snorted and shook his head as Mother said, “It’s not a horrible thing, being lord of the manor.”

“For you.” I shrugged. “I don’t quite know what I want to do yet, but I know I’d hate that. By the way, what was that about Oswin? Did you mean _uncle_ Oswin?”

Mother smiled faintly; Oswin is her favourite brother. “Yes, he meant your uncle. He’s like you.”

“Technically, you’re like him,” Father corrected. “It runs in your mother’s side of the family.”

"It does?" I'd never heard any of this.

Father nodded. "Along with Oswin, there's, what?"

"An aunt and two cousins that I know of," Mother said.

"Of course, the rest of her family is prolific enough that there's been no net loss," Father said with a slight smirk.

I sat back down in my chair, feeling somewhat overwhelmed. “So that doesn’t bother you?”

“Hmph. Can't say I'm thrilled. Not what a parent plans on, you know. I suppose it would pose a problem if you hadn’t turned out to be a mage too, but bothered? Not really,” Father said. “Always knew there was a possibility, and Oswin’s the most reasonable one in that mad lot your mother calls a family.”

“We’ll just have to look to Danae for grandchildren,” Mother said philosophically and yawned.

“Which we’re too young for anyway,” Father quipped. “That being said, it’s getting late — we should probably head for home.”

Mother nodded agreement and stood. I stood back up too. Father shook my hand and gave me another awkward, one-armed hug. “We, um, won’t bring up you getting rid of your magic again.”

“Thanks ever so,” I said, not hiding the sarcasm. He half-smiled and made way for my mother.

“Well, I'd say you’ve made it clear where you stand on being a _mage_ , so I’ll stop looking for ways,” she said with a pleasant tone and a not-so-pleasant look on her face. “Take care of yourself, Kai. I’m sorry I made things uncomfortable.” She hugged me and pretended not to notice that I couldn’t help stiffening when she did. She was making it clear what she thought and it hurt.

I thanked them for everything, told them it was nice seeing them both and not to worry. We made vague promises to get together again soon and they left. I collapsed into my chair and drank one last beer, trying to avoid thinking about what just happened until it had all sunk in enough for me to sort out logically. I felt annoyed and exhausted at the same time, but exhaustion won out and I put out the lights and crawled into bed.

Some hours later I woke from an unremembered nightmare with tears running down my face and wondered how long it would take until that didn’t happen anymore.


	11. Moss

I'd been living in Ostwick for almost a year. I still didn't particularly like the place, but it was working well enough as a base to get myself established. It sometimes surprised me how quickly the time went.

Oliver had been keeping me informed about the Mage-Templar situation. The Circles had finally rebelled and been dissolved, breaking away from the rule of Chantry and Templars. Some former circles joined the rebellion outright, some scattered to the winds. There were also those who called themselves 'Loyalists' who were determined to reinstate the Circles and aligned themselves with the Chantry, the mad bastards. Then there were the now small-c circles like Oliver's, that weren't trying to do anything but provide a safe, neutral haven for those who couldn't or didn't want to get involved in the wars.

The Templar Lord Seeker had declared the Nevarran Accord that had led to the Seekers and Templars aligning with the Chantry and establishing the Circles in the first place to be null and void, leaving the Chantry without their hounds. Now the mages and templars were in a full-out war. Oliver'd managed to keep what remained of the Ostwick circle out of it so far, but it was getting tense and people were scared. He told me what had happened in Dairsmuid — an entire Circle slaughtered with a bogus claim of Right of Annulment because the Seekers that showed up there didn't like the freedoms the mages were allowed — and it made me feel sick. I still didn't want to run off to join the rebellion, though; it seemed to me there must be more effective ways to force change, not to mention I couldn't see that anything I did as an individual mage would make much of a difference. I told him I'd help however I could _as a friend_ , but I refused to set foot in the Circle. He understood, and said he hoped he wouldn't have to ask me for help. 

In the meantime, I went to work, sometimes indulged in the never-ending card game at the Rest, worked on spellcrafting and non-flashy magical things, read books and kept an eye on the chaos that seemed to be spreading from the south up into the Free Marches like a cancer.

**###**

I sometimes felt a bit disappointed that my re-entry into the world was much less exciting and impactful than I’d pictured. Still, it’s not like what I was doing was all bad or without value. I enjoyed my job most of the time; if nothing else, I'd become adept at being able to talk comfortably with people from every walk of life you could imagine. I'd even had a Qunari mercenary come to me for writing services once. With a few glaring exceptions, most of the people I dealt with, no matter what their income level and social status, were quite similar when you got right down to it. I grew skilled at calming the angry ones, talking the less articulate ones through their discomfort to find out what they wanted their letters to say, and steering the verbose ones into getting to the damn point. I could accurately decipher all but the most illegible chicken-scratches of handwriting. 

I'd even acquired my own little group of regulars: some were business people who just liked my style of writing; one was a very nice older lady who came at least once a week for help writing letters to her daughter (I think she was mostly just lonely; sadly, I never heard anything about the daughter writing her back); another was the elven man whose wife had been imprisoned back when I first started. They'd dropped the accusation and released her and both of them insisted it was my letters that made it happen. She even made me cookies now and then. Lately, another had been added to my regulars — a good-looking man about my age named Moss Lindner. The first time he'd had a rather lengthy report he needed to send to some official in Markham; it had taken some time to do and we'd chatted a fair bit, not always about the requirements of the report. He'd come back several times since, the jobs getting smaller and flimsier while the time spent talking increased. I may not have had a great deal of experience with such things, but I'd have to be a blind idiot not to see that he was interested. After some thought, I decided to be interested back. For one thing, he was running out of things for me to write.

Of course, not everyone thought I was wonderful. To most of my customers I was essentially a piece of furniture that could write things. With others there was some active dislike going on. Some just rubbed me the wrong way (and vice versa, I’m sure); others were truly obnoxious people. Then there were the ones who refused to deal with me. There were two in particular I remember: one was an older woman who took one look at me and announced she wanted nothing to do with me because “all bald men are unreliable” (I considered telling her if I allowed my hair to grow for a month, I’d have considerably more than she). The other was a well-dressed man who threw an absolute fit because I’m left-handed. Poor Aislinn had to take him into her office and assure him I’d never touch his documents. The job was an ongoing series of lessons in diplomacy, I’ll give it that.

One spring afternoon at the end of my work week, Moss made his semi-regular appearance. He dug a scrap of paper out of his pocket and handed it to me.

“What _is_ this?” I asked, eyeing the smudgy little thing.

He gave me crooked smile. “It’s my grocery list. I’ve now completely run out of excuses to come here. Is there any chance I can stop pretending I need things written and still see you?”

“There’s a very good chance.” I smiled back. “I’m off soon; do you want to get a beer and see if it’s possible to carry on a conversation outside of this office? Or we could get coffee if you don’t drink.”

“A drink sounds good. Ever been to the Hound and Halla?”

And that’s how I started my second relationship in Ostwick.

Moss was worlds different from Ryton. He was a few years older than me and made his living importing and exporting goods from Antiva. He was solidly built, a bit taller than me, had longish brown hair and blue eyes. He sported a carefully-trimmed goatee that he was inordinately proud of and had a weakness for expensive clothing. He was well-educated and articulate and interested in everything from current events to obscure Nevarran art movements, though he had a tendency to go off on long, rambling jags about business and finance if he wasn’t reined in. Jarringly, he was partial to crude humour, which was fine on occasion but could get tiresome.

We got on well enough that first time that we started seeing one another. It wasn’t an intense sort of relationship, but we enjoyed each other’s company. The first several times it was just drinks, conversation and darts (he was a fiend for darts). Eventually he suggested we might go back to his place to do things that were unacceptable in public and I agreed. It was always his place we went to after that, because his place was much nicer than mine. I could have moved somewhere nicer, but I’d grown accustomed to my modest flat. No one bothered me there, and I considered my residence in Ostwick to be a temporary thing so there was no point in finding somewhere to settle.

It turned out Moss liked a degree of pain along with his pleasure. Controlled pain, with safe words and him dictating the sorts of punishment I was to dole out, but it was quite a learning experience. Moss also taught me to _slow down._ All my sexual experiences in the Circle — whether alone or with someone — had of necessity been centred around doing it quickly and quietly. With Ryton it had been much the same despite the danger of discovery being absent. I really didn’t know any other way, and I think Ryton had even less experience than I. We’d lost interest in each other before we tried much in the way of new things.

Moss didn’t want to just get off — he wanted an _experience_. He had an entire, poshly appointed section of his basement dedicated to that _experience_. So the first time I tried to dive right in like I always had, he stopped me cold. He then proceeded — as we proceeded — to give me meticulous instructions on precisely what he wanted, how to go about it and how it would benefit me as well. He taught me a great deal about how to pace myself and how to wring every last bit of sensation possible out of a session before allowing release. I thought about incorporating my magic into it, but he had no idea I was a mage and I wasn’t sure how he’d react, so I kept everything strictly unmagical ( _heh - he’ll never know what he missed_ ). It wasn’t long before I didn’t require such painstaking instruction — I always was a quick learner — and I became adept at providing the sort of _experience_ he craved. He also introduced me to things I didn’t know existed, let alone that I’d like them. For a time I think I spent more time in Moss’s basement than I did in my own flat. It was a very… educational period of my life and would stand me in good stead when I finally got into a _real_ relationship a few years later. 


	12. Old Friends and Other Creatures

A few months into my relationship with Moss, he had to go on a business trip to Antiva. As a result, there were three weeks where I was back at my usual haunts rather than down in his basement. I’d joined the card game at the Rest and was actually winning for once, so of course the person who’d just entered the inn wearing a big, hooded cloak made a beeline for me. The game paused and everyone watched as the hood was pushed back to reveal a woman with tousled blonde hair, wide grey eyes and a firm, boyish chin. “Tasha?” I said with surprise. 

“I’m sorry if I’m interrupting. I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Can we go somewhere? I…kind of need your help.” She sounded tense and frightened.

“Of course,” I said with a purely mental sigh. _You had to wait until I was winning._ I cashed out of the game and led her to my favourite table. “Talk to me first. What’s going on?”

“Only everything’s gone tits up,” she snapped. “It’s been awful. Where _were_ you?”

Several responses flickered through my mind with accompanying visuals, most of them not repeatable in polite company. “Never mind that. Have you been in town long?”

“A few days. Trying to lay low and not get noticed, you know?”

“I know,” I said with a smile, “Do you want to go back to my place?”

She nodded vigorously.

“Let’s go, then, and you can tell me all about it.” I stopped at the bar to buy beer to take home and, after looking at the state Tasha was in, a bottle of something harder as well.

I got another surprise when we walked out of the inn as Tasha gestured and someone joined her, clad in the same sort of big, hooded cloak she was sporting. 

“Do you mind?” she said, “We thought it would be easier if just I went in to look for you.”

 _Well, if I did say I minded I’d be an instant wanker…_ Besides, it was Tasha. “It’s fine,” I said. “Let’s go.”

We entered my flat and I turned on the lights with a thought; no need to pretend I couldn't with other mages. Tasha dropped the hood on her cloak and her companion finally followed suit. When I saw who it was I very nearly told them to leave again. Gyrdon Lavelle was an angular, sallow man in his mid-twenties. He had long, dark hair that always seemed to be in transition between styles, hazel eyes and a wispy attempt at a moustache. I couldn’t stand him and he'd always returned the sentiment. I turned an accusing glare on Tasha.

"Just hold on, Kai, please?" she said. "I know you and Gyrdon don't like each other, but we really need your help. I _promise_ we won't be any trouble."

I wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. Instead I turned my glare on Gyrdon. "Well, Gyrdon? Do you _promise_ too?"

He barely kept the automatic sneer he always got when talking to me in check. "Of course, old man. Is there a privy around here?"

I pointed. "End of the hall. Feel free to get lost on the way back."

He smirked, dropped his cloak on one of my chairs and ambled out the door. I spun back to Tasha. "What in Andraste's bloody name were you thinking bringing him here? Why are you even _with_ him? Don't tell me _he's_ who you were waiting for before leaving."

"Kai, he's changed. He's not as bad as you think," she pleaded.

"Bollocks. He's an asshole on his best day. If he's changed at all, I guarantee it's only because he refined his technique."

"Just give him a chance, would you?"

"Tasha, he's a poisonous little rodent. I can't _believe_ you sucked me into letting him into my house."

"It won't be for long, I _swear_. And I'll make sure he behaves. He'll listen to me. We- we love each other," she finished unconvincingly.

I snorted. "Gyrdon Lavelle doesn't love anyone but himself."

"I heard that, Trevelyan," Gyrdon re-entered my flat, "and I shall ignore it for Tasha's sake."

"Big of you," I muttered then sighed. "I suppose you'd better tell me what's happened, then." I handed his cloak back to him, "Coat rack, please."

He complied, saying, "You know, with your family connections I really expected something a bit more posh than this flophouse."

"Feel free to flop elsewhere if this isn't up to your lofty standards." I handed Tasha the bottle and took a beer for myself. If Lavelle wanted anything he could share with Tasha.

"Guys, could you please pretend to get along for a bit?" Tasha groaned as she sat in my other armchair. Gyrdon had to pull one of the kitchen chairs up next to it; I was fresh out of comfortable seating.

"Fine, pretending," I said. "Now what happened?"

"Templars," Gyrdon spat.

"I thought the only templars left there were harmless," I said.

"They were. Then last week new ones came. They hadn't been ordered there; they just showed up." Tasha took a slug off the bottle and passed it to Gyrdon. "They said they were there to annul us."

"Not that they had orders to, you understand," Gyrdon drawled. "They'd just taken it upon themselves to remove any remaining mage circles they came across."

"Shite. How many of them?"

"There must've been nearly a dozen of them. Kai, they had a collection of staffs they'd taken from mages they killed." Tasha shuddered.

"One of them had a necklace he'd threaded fingers from dead mages on," Gyrdon added. He looked like he was just sorry he hadn't come up with the idea first.

"We fought them, of course," Tasha continued. "It was ugly, but we won. Well, more or less. The templars that survived left, anyway. Not _our_ templars; the bad ones."

"What about the mages? Is everyone all right? How's Oliver?"

Tasha squinted at me. "Who?"

"Oliver. The First Enchanter," I repeated.

Gyrdon gave me a nasty smile. " _Oliver_ , is it? Maker's breath, how far up his ass _were_ you? Or should I be asking how far he's been up yours?"

"You really want to start with me?" I said flatly. We both knew I was leagues more powerful than he was.

"Just joking, Trevelyan. Don't get your knickers in a knot," he said lightly, but he deflated a few notches.

"Maker," Tasha muttered. "The First Enchanter's fine; if it wasn't for him keeping us organized we might not have survived. We lost Nethari — that little elf girl, just passed her Harrowing? — and one of the Tranquil, I think his name was Stanton? But that was just the beginning. Because of the templar attack, everyone started fighting about what we should do. Some wanted to join the rebellion, some wanted to stay put and fortify the place, a few even wanted to go out and start hunting templars. The First Enchanter and Senior Enchanter Petra tried to keep things calm, but they couldn't be everywhere at once."

"Tasha, why the fuck weren't you already gone?" I asked.

She glanced at Lavelle then looked at the floor. "I wanted Gyrdon to come with me. For some reason, they were keeping a close eye on him. Like they didn't want him to leave the Circle, even though fifteen others must have left without them so much as blinking since you did."

"Why didn't _you_ want to leave?" I asked him.

He shrugged. "I was biding my time. Why give up three squares and a comfortable bed before I had to?" He glanced around my flat. "Not that you seem to be suffering much if you can overlook the neighborhood. Mummy and daddy shooting you some money to keep you away from their proper, non-magical friends?"

"That's none of your business, Lavelle," I said, turning to Tasha. "So if smartass here didn't want to leave, why did you?"

" _Everything_ went wrong. The stay faction and the rebel faction were at each other’s throats and-"

"Wait, why didn't the ones who wanted to leave just leave?"

"I don't know," Tasha said. "It's like they wouldn't be happy until they got _everyone_ to leave. They were insisting we all travel as a group to officially join the rebels. In the meantime they were camped on opposite sides of the compound shouting at each other, but then three days ago everything went sideways. I don't understand what happened. Gyrdon happened to be there when it all went mad and people started throwing spells around and even going at each other physically with their staffs and…" she trailed off, shaking her head.

I looked over at Gyrdon and was pretty sure what he'd been doing there. The little rodent had always been an instigator, prodding tense situations until they boiled over then standing back to watch the fun. He looked like he was trying desperately to hide a smirk. "And what, Tasha?" I said.

"He- he was only trying to defend himself but…he accidentally killed Senior Enchanter Lydia."

I stared at Lavelle. "Accidentally?" I'd heard from some who had been in courses with him that he'd despised Lydia. She refused to put up with his shit and was adept at making him look the fool by letting him do it to himself.

"Absolutely," he said with round-eyed sincerity. "She must have thought I was with the rebel faction, because she fired a plasma bolt right at me. It would have killed me if I hadn't run _toward_ her. I tackled her to the ground purely to get her to stop and she must have landed wrong because her neck snapped. I felt terrible about it." It might have been convincing if didn't have that nasty little smirk still playing about his lips whenever Tasha wasn't looking.

"Well, then we _had_ to leave," Tasha said. "People were saying Gyrdon did it on purpose just because he didn't like her. The senior staff was going to call him into a meeting in a few more days. A bunch of the rebel faction decided to leave before things got worse, so we slipped out when they did. I knew you'd gone into Ostwick and, well, you were the first person I thought of that might help. We don’t know what to do; we've not been outside the Circle since we were little, either of us."

"So you figured you'd just hide Ratboy until I'd already agreed to help. Not nice, Tasha. That's something Gyrdon would do."

"I'm sorry, but you would have told him to fuck off."

"Yes, I would. I still may."

"Oh, don't worry that hairless dome of yours, I won't do anything to jeopardize you," he sniffed.

"You're already pushing it," I said.

"You don't want bald jokes, don't shave your head." 

I controlled the urge to take his head clean off. "Okay, I'll help you, but you can't stay here," I said directing my attention to Tasha again. "I'll set you up at an inexpensive inn for a few days and help you figure out what you're doing next and how to go about it, but that's _all_ I'm going to do, understand?"

She nodded. "We understand. And we really appreciate it, Kai. Things are…really scary out there right now."

"Then why don't we go get you a room?"

She nodded again and excused herself to use the facilities before we left. Gyrdon looked at me and raised his eyebrows.

"What are you really doing with her?" I said.

"Why, I love her dearly, Kai. What else would I be doing?"

I counted the answers on my fingers as I spoke. "Banging her. Using her. Playing with her. Setting her up for something. Fucking with her head because you enjoy that sort of thing. Shall I continue?"

He pouted at me. "You wound me. You shouldn't believe everything you hear."

"I've heard it from your mouth, Lavelle. How you sucked in someone as smart as Tasha is unfathomable."

"I'm charming and women think I'm good-looking," he said with a smug smile. "I'm also phenomenal in the sack. Don't worry about her. As you say, she's smart. She's also attractive and almost as much of a magical powerhouse as you. That makes her an ideal traveling companion. People will be nice to us because of her, she can protect me, and she also has more chance of making money while we're on the road. Does that calm your trepidations?"

"No, but at least it's actually rather logical," I said.

"A compliment!" He grinned. "At this rate we may grow to only dislike each other in a hundred or so years."

"Don't count on it."

When Tasha got back we were both drinking and glaring at each other. "Oh, look! It's so nice to see you getting along," she said with sweet sarcasm. "Shall we get going so Kai can have his place back?"

I took them to an inexpensive inn and paid for a few nights. As Gyrdon bounded up the stairs to their room, I pulled Tasha aside and said, "Can I please talk to you at some point tomorrow without him being there?"

She sighed, but gave me a small smile. "Sure. I'll make a bit of time where that can happen. I owe you that much."

"Good." I bade her good night and made my way back home. I was worried now, both about how Oliver was faring and about Tasha. Just when things were going smoothly they had to go and get complicated again.


	13. Tasha and the Rat

I went to work early, feeling tired and out of sorts despite having my usual coffee, so I could write a quick note to Oliver and have our messenger deliver it. I enquired after his well-being, of course, and informed him that Gyrdon Lavelle was in town. I wasn’t sure if that would worry Oliver, but it sounded like they’d been keeping an eye on the little rodent and he’d always been a nasty piece of work. It absolutely baffled me how he kept managing to attract otherwise intelligent women even in the insular microcosm of the Circle. At least there he was held somewhat in check by its very insularity. I shuddered to think what he might do out in the real world.

Shortly after lunch, I got a message back. Oliver assured me he was fine, but expressed even more alarm at Gyrdon’s whereabouts than I felt. He said he’d try to get to town the next evening, as he was still doing damage control, and requested I keep Ratboy in my sights. I endured what turned out to be a painfully slow day (I spent a great deal of it transcribing mining results into something readable) and escaped to the Hound and Halla to eat before hunting down Tasha and her ghastly boyfriend.

She was waiting in front of my apartment building, looking bored and a little lost. For a wonder, she was alone. She smiled when she saw me. “Took you long enough.”

“Sorry, I stopped for dinner. Were you waiting long? Where’s Ratboy?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Maybe twenty minutes and _Gyrdon_ wanted to have a look around Ostwick, so I told him I didn’t.”

“Do you want to go upstairs or would you rather grab a drink somewhere?”

She opted for the drink, so I took her back to the Hound and Halla. It was a little quieter and more private than the Rest, not to mention _Gyrdon_ didn’t know where it was. We took a small table near the back; I bought her dinner along with our drinks. "Alone at last," I quipped.

She gave me a hard look. “I hope you’re not going to try to talk me out of staying with Gyrdon.”

“I am, but that’s not the only reason I wanted to talk to you,” I said. "I've missed you, you know."

"I've missed you, too," she said with a smile. "I'm a little surprised you're still in Ostwick after all this time."

"So am I," I admitted. "And I'm sorry, but I'm absolutely baffled why you're with Gyrdon fucking Lavelle."

She sighed and took a bite of her food. “Why do you hate him so much? I know he’s always acted like an idiot around you, but that’s because you intimidate him.”

I snorted. “Is that what he told you? Gyrdon doesn’t get intimidated. He’s just smart enough to know exactly how far he can push it with people who could kill him. He _enjoys_ it.”

She rolled her eyes. “And you know that how?”

“Tash, believe it or not, there are things guys will say to each other that they don’t say around women, and Ratboy is a mouthy little bastard. I never had much to do with him because of the age difference even before I found out he’s a rodent, but but you know what it's like in the Circle — everybody ends up around everybody eventually. So I know that because I’ve heard it repeatedly from his own big mouth — he _likes_ fucking with people. He likes instigating trouble. And he _loves_ messing with women.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Well just because that’s not your cup of tea…”

“Oh, very funny. Brat.” She smirked at me. “You know bloody well that’s not what I mean. He gets some kind of charge out of getting women to fall for him then dumping them or doing something so obnoxious that they dump _him_. That can’t possibly have escaped your notice. He brags about it when there are no women around. If anything, I'd say women intimidate him, because he seems to have a real problem with them.”

She stopped eating for a moment. “Kai. Sweetie. Let me tell _you_ something now. I know all the rotten things he’s done, but you know what? He’s twenty-five. You’re thirty-two. He’s always going to seem immature to you, so maybe you just can’t accept that he’s grown up some.”

“My feelings about him have nothing to do with his maturity. They have to do with his idea of entertainment. I fucking hate people who get off on playing mind games, and that is your Gyrdon's _raison d'être_.” I downed the last of my beer and signaled for another. “He’s also a vicious little bastard. Honestly, Tasha, I thought you had more sense, not to mention better taste.”

She snorted. “Andraste's tits, Kai, you should hear yourself. Look, if it makes you feel any better, just remember this: if he does try to pull anything on me, magically speaking I can kick his arse without even breaking a sweat. Now talk to me about something else before you piss me off. I don’t want to be mad at you after not seeing you for a year.”

I did as she asked, changing the subject to what she planned on doing and offering to answer any questions about life outside the Circle. Not that I had a great breadth of experience at that point, but compared to her I did. She was still leaning towards joining the rebels; unsurprisingly, Ratboy had no opinion on the matter. Much as she had a year earlier, I reminded her that they were going to need money. Much as I had a year earlier, she said they had some and were planning to work whenever they needed more. As the whole idea of a job was something of an academic exercise to her, we spent some time on the subject. I also gave her the same advice the alienage elf had given me about procuring a conventional weapon and getting proficient with it. She and Ratboy hadn’t ditched their staffs like I had; they had them wrapped up in their luggage. She thought their magic (well, mainly hers) would be enough to defend them against all comers; I tried to get it through to her that that wasn’t always the case. I’m not sure she completely believed me.

All too soon, Tasha started to get worried that Ratboy might be wondering where she was, so we went back to their inn. He was there, all right, and he was miffed he'd come back to find her gone. I ignored their subsequent argument about whether or not she'd left a note and, mindful of Oliver's request that I keep an eye on him, offered to spend the evening getting them both up to speed on what they could expect out in the real world. We ended up sitting in their room playing cards most of the evening while I answered questions. For a wonder, Gyrdon behaved fairly well…for him. Which meant I still had to put up with snide remarks and bald jokes, but he put some effort into acting almost civil. The questions he asked were actually intelligent; I had a bad habit of forgetting he was quite bright despite his dreadful personality.


	14. Tasha and the Rat - Part 2

The next day at work I received a note from Oliver saying he was going to be delayed at least another day "putting out fires" (I hoped that was just a metaphor) and asking me to do anything I could to keep Lavelle from leaving town. I wasn't looking forward to that, since it meant spending more time around the rodent and I was seriously running out of things to say. By the end of my day I was still puzzling over what I could suggest doing that would make the evening tolerable. I said good night to Aislinn and stepped outside to find Tasha waiting for me.

"Slipped the leash again, I see," I said with a smile to let her know I was teasing.

She fell in beside me as I walked, making a disgusted noise. "That's more accurate than you'd think. I swear, Kai, Gyrdon's been _different_ since we got here."

"Different how?"

"Look, I know you never liked him, so don't start saying _I told you so_ , but when we were in the Circle he was always so nice to me. Really respectful and charming. I mean, I knew he was a little gobshite to other people, but he never was to me."

"So what's been happening?" I kept my voice solicitously neutral.

"I don't know. He's just…nasty. Sarcastic. Sometimes really mean. He's gotten worse every day."

“You liked him well enough yesterday,” I allowed myself to snark. “Did something happen last night?”

She looked down at her feet. “No. Kind of. I don’t know if I want to tell you.”

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” I asked sharply.

“No. Nothing physical, don’t worry. He…ugh.”

"Do you think it's because you asked me for help?" I said carefully.

She shook her head. "I don't. If anything, he seems to like the idea that you're having to spend time and money helping him. It's more like all of a sudden he doesn't like _me_. I mean, he still wants to be with me -you know- physically, but otherwise he doesn’t give a toss about me."

"Is there any reason you can't just part ways?" I wanted so badly to say _I told you so…_

"Well, I've kind of been thinking about it, but it's not even been a week. What if this is just because he's nervous or something? And he wants me to stay with him. He was acting all weird about my going out on my own today."

"And what if it's not nerves? What if he's just not worried about keeping his act up around you anymore?"

She huffed out a small explosion of air. "You're asking me to believe he's been putting on an act around me for _years_?"

"It's not as difficult as you think, Tasha. If anything, it would amuse him that he had you so completely taken in. Remember what I told you about him."

"You just said _I told you so_ ," she grumped.

"Technically I just asked you to remember something I said earlier."

"Brat." A flash of a smile, then her expression went stormy again. "But if what you're saying is true, why would he want me to stay with him?"

"You really want me to answer that?" At her nod I said, "For one thing, you're still sleeping with him. He may even have meant what he told me about it being practical to travel with you."

"He told you _what?_ "

I outlined exactly what he said; she looked gratifyingly pissed off. I continued, "Mind you, I'd say the main reason he wants you with him is just to prove he can make you stay with him. It's a power thing. He knows damn well you outclass him in every way, so this is just his nasty little way to take you down a notch."

She glanced at me with a tiny smile. "You've really thought this out, haven't you."

I smiled back. "Well, you know, when you truly despise someone… You want to get something to eat?"

She did, so we went back to the Hound and Halla, ate and continued our conversation over drinks. She twirled a strand of hair around her finger and said, "Have I mentioned how much I missed you today?"

"No, but go right ahead," I smiled, "and I'll tell you again how much I missed you too. There's been no one _fun_ to hang about with without you."

"You're the one who always came up with the fun ideas.” She grinned. “I just dared you to actually do them." Her expression grew solemn again. "He might get really nasty if I leave him, mightn't he?"

"I wouldn't put anything past him. You just told me he murdered Lydia."

"It was an accident," she said swiftly, then grimaced. "Unless it wasn't. Maker, Kai, what if it really _wasn't_?"

"Then he's even worse than we all thought and there's even more reason for you to send him packing."

She sighed, twirling the strand in the opposite direction. "You said he tries to make women dump him…"

"Sometimes."

"Well, maybe that's what he's doing now," she said hopefully.

"He usually did that when he'd found another he was more interested in. Doesn't sound like you're that lucky."

She scowled. “Well there goes that excuse for him. You know what? This is stupid. I _am_ gonna tell you what happened last night.”

“This is going to make me want to hit him, isn’t it?”

“You already want to hit him.”

“True,” I said with a half-smile, “so you may as well tell me.”

She took a drink and a deep breath. “Okay. After you left we were talking about what we're going to do. He was fine with joining the rebels, but that’s a lot of traveling, and traveling takes money, so I was talking about what sort of work we might be able to find. And he said we could get more than enough money quickly if I’d just- just _whore myself out_ whenever we started running short.”

“Was he serious?”

“That’s what _I_ said. And _he_ said he didn’t see what the big deal was as long as he _screened the buyers_ first. So I _told_ him what the big deal was and then he said he was only joking, but I don’t think he was, Kai. He looked like he was trying not to laugh when I got upset with him, but in a really nasty way, you know?”

“I know. I've seen the look. My only question is whether he was sounding you out to see if you’d do it or if he was just fucking with your head. Either way that should be setting off warning bells, don’t you think?”

She raked her hands through her hair. “I _do_ think. Maker! He was so- It was the _way_ he was talking about it. Like I’m just a- a mobile hunk of meat or something. Just the fact that he thought about it is bad enough; that he brought it up to me is so disgusting, it made me start to think maybe you and everyone else are right about him.”

“Am I allowed to say _I told you so_ yet?”

She mock-glared at me. "No. I'd be stupid to stay around and see how much worse it can get, wouldn't I?"

"I think you already know the answer to that, Tash. You don't need me to tell you. You don't honestly love him, do you?"

"I don't know.” She sighed. “I thought I did, but it didn't take much for him to start acting exactly like everyone said he would. You're not the only one from back home that hates him, you know. Maybe I just _wanted_ to be in love with someone. It's not like there was much choice in the Circle even once the templars stopped watching all the time."

I snorted. "You got that right."

She smiled. "Yeah, I guess the pickings were even slimmer for you. Did you ever get together with that templar?”

Now I sighed. “Yeah, once he wasn’t a templar anymore. It didn’t work out. We were just too different.”

“That’s too bad, sweetie. I’m sorry.” She gave my hand a squeeze.

“Eh, I’m over it. Right now I’m more concerned about your situation.”

She made a face. “Maker, I hate the idea that I’m in a _situation_. So how do I walk away from him if he's liable to get nasty about it?"

I debated the wisdom for a moment then decided to tell her. "If you can just wait another day, hopefully no more than two, you won't have to worry about him. I've been in contact with Oliver. He's coming to fetch Ratboy as soon as he can get away. That right there should tell you _everyone_ knows what a nasty piece of work he is."

Her eyes widened. "They're taking him back to the Circle? They don't want me too? What are they going to do with him?"

"Firstly, no, they don't want you. You're free to go find yourself a life. I don't know and I really don't give a fuck what they plan to do with him."

"…Wow." She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "You don't think I'll warn him?"

"I hope not. You don't need him, Tasha. You know, you don't _have_ to leave right away. I'd be glad to help you if you want to take some time to figure out what you want to do."

"You're sweet, Kai," she smiled. "I'll think about it, okay? Staying, I mean. I won't warn Gyrdon. Considering how many people have told me to get away from him, I guess I'm an idiot if I don't."

"Well, a glutton for punishment, anyway."

We talked a while longer then went back to their inn. I paid for one more night and we went up to their room. Gyrdon was there when we walked in, sitting at the writing desk leafing through a book they must have brought with them. "There you are," he said, "I figured you were with baldy."

"Fuck you, hairbag," I said as I dropped into the other chair.

He ignored me, reaching under the desk to retrieve something. I groaned internally as he stood and handed Tasha the bouquet of flowers with a little flourish. "For you. Sorry I've been so cross lately."

She glanced quickly at me as she took the flowers with a smile and kissed him. When she went to set the flowers on the little nightstand by her side of the bed, he took the opportunity to give me a nasty little smirk. The rest of the time I was there he was on his best behaviour; I could only pray she saw what he was up to and was going to stick to her resolve to leave him. When I said good night she gave me a quick hug and murmured, "Don't worry." I wished I knew what she meant by that.


	15. Descent

I had the next day off work, so I slept in. When I finally hauled myself out of bed in the early afternoon, I saw the piece of paper right away. Someone had slipped it under my door. Pieces of paper slipped under the door never seem to bode well, and this one was no exception.

 _Dear Kai,_  
_Gyrdon really wanted to get on the road and we talked it over. I feel bad about just leaving without saying_  
_goodbye, but it was getting late and we thought maybe it would be best this way (I know you won't feel_  
_bad about missing one last chance to see Gyrdon!)._

 _It was good seeing you again and being able to talk with you. We are both so grateful for the help you gave_  
_us. There's a present for you in our room at the inn! We figured you can use my key and just give it to the_  
_innkeeper when you leave._

 _Thank you again and take care of yourself (Gyrdon just called you baldy again),_  
_Love you!_

I swore out loud. The little rodent had gotten his way after all. I looked around by the door and found the key. I'd go there, but I wanted coffee first. At least I could pretend for a bit that she'd slipped their travel itinerary into the present so Oliver could catch the bastard unawares and haul him away.

An hour later I went to the inn. It was dead quiet, afternoon sun streaming through the windows making the lobby stuffily warm. Even the innkeeper wasn’t behind the counter — there was just a heavy but prettily cast bell there in case someone needed her attention. The whole place felt empty. I climbed the stairs, absently noting that the light also revealed their dark red carpeting, which normally looked quite lush, was going threadbare. The second floor felt just as stuffy as the first.

I entered their room. The only sound was that of a fly buzzing soporifically in the window. I walked farther in, scanning around for my supposed present. At first glance everything looked neatly in its place, emptied of personality as the room awaited its new tenants. I looked down, and there it was.

It was Tasha.

She was nude, laid out on her back. The beginnings of a bruise darkened the left side of her face, but it would never finish forming. Her grey eyes were wide and startled and empty. Her throat had been viciously slashed, but he hadn't stopped there. He'd sliced her open from sternum to crotch. Her organs were laid out neatly next to her on a blood-soaked bedsheet. I saw colour and edged closer. Set carefully in her abdominal cavity was the bouquet of flowers.

I backed away from the tableau, stepped quietly into the hall. I pressed my back to the wall and slid down it until I was sitting. I didn't want to think about what was in that room, but I had to. I wanted to weep for Tasha, and maybe later I would, but the enormity of it was too _huge_ at that moment. And much as I wanted to find someone and tell them my friend had been murdered, I couldn't. Going to the Ostwick authorities was out of the question. The victim was a mage. The murderer was a mage. I knew them because I was a mage — it wouldn't take them long to find that out — from a prominent local family. With the political climate at that time, it was bound to turn even uglier than it already was. Oliver might be able to help, but he had his own problems and I didn't have the luxury of time to wait for him to get into town. Right now Gyrdon hadn't had time to get far; another day and he'd be in the wind. It was up to me to find him.

I'll be honest: I _wanted_ to find him. A stranger might buy that harmless act of his. I wouldn't.

Before I could do that, I had to go back into that room. I couldn't leave Tasha there for anyone to find. She had no relatives that might want her remains, so once they were done investigating her murder she'd be disposed of without ceremony. I wasn't going to let that happen. I locked the door and left the inn. I needed supplies.

I returned a half hour later, paid the innkeeper for one final night then took my things up to the room. I stepped through the door. Everything was just as I'd left it, though there was another fly in the room and it was starting to smell. I cast a freezing spell on the body to stop the smell from worsening and turned my attention to the things on the bedsheet. There's a spell we generally use to clean assorted mud, blood and ick off when washing up is impossible. It works by removing the moisture from the offending material. I used a form of that spell now, amping up the power as the items I wanted to desiccate were considerably denser than usual. I opened the window so the increased humidity wouldn't overwhelm the room. Once they were nothing but dried husks, I pulled on leather gloves and moved them onto another sheet. I folded that over and stomped it down with my boots until anything left was unrecognizable. I stuffed that sheet and the blood-soaked one into a burlap sack.

I couldn’t and wouldn’t do that to the rest of her. I pulled the blanket off the bed and set it on the floor, then carefully moved her onto it. It was awkward, but she wasn't terribly heavy. _(She closed the distance between us and gave me a hug made awkward by the bulky traveling bag. "Good luck, Kai. Be careful, okay? I know you'll do well." She smiled crookedly…)_

After a few deep breaths I resumed my terrible chore, concentrating very hard on just doing what needed to be done. I wrapped her in the blanket. Opened  the big travelling bag I'd liberated from the storage room in the Circle. Managed to get her in, though it was a bit of a struggle. The flowers went into the burlap sack.

I went downstairs and filled the bucket I brought at the outside pump. Cleaned the floors of blood and…other things. I had to make a few trips back to the pump before it was all gone. The rags went into the burlap sack. I threw the entire bucket down the privy. Locked the door again.

I stopped at home to wash up, filling my wash basin and heating the water as high as I could stand. Then I went to the stables to fetch Lightning (inappropriately, it flashed through my mind how ludicrous it sounded that I was going to ride my trusty horse Lightning out in search of a murdering bastard as if I was a character in one of the schlocky adventure books I’m fond of). Rode him back to the inn.

As a precaution, I had a last look around the room. It was probably cleaner than it had been in years and felt empty and dead. Soulless. The only things there that hadn't come with the room were the burlap sack and the big travelling bag. I checked the closet last. _Oh, Tasha, you left me a present after all._ Standing in the back corner was my old staff. I took it almost reverently, had to take a few more minutes to clamp back down on the emotions that were threatening to distract me. I had no easy way to carry it, but damned if I was going to leave it. I took the burlap sack down first and secured it to the saddle. Then, using a bit of magic to facilitate things, I wrestled the traveling bag on, took my staff and locked the door one last time. I left the key and extra money to pay for the missing bedding.

I mounted Lightning and we rode out of town. I knew where I needed to go first. About twenty minutes north of town was a rocky area that looked like someone had made a half-hearted attempt at starting a quarry. It was out of sight of the road; I'd discovered it as a boy. I left Lightning to graze in a grassy area nearby and carried the bags into the failed quarry. First the burlap sack. For the first time in a year, I channeled power through my staff. Fortunately this staff had been configured to facilitate fire spells particularly, so the strength and focus of my spell was increased with almost no effort required. The sack was nothing but ashes in moments.

I turned my attention to the big travelling bag with its mute contents. I know you're supposed to say something, but I felt like if I said anything aloud I might lose the careful detachment I'd constructed. I thought my words instead. _Tasha, you were a dear friend and one of the best people I've ever known. You deserved better and if such things are possible, I hope you'll receive everything you ever wanted. I'll always remember you._

Again I channeled fire, but this time I put force behind it. What came out of the staff was nearly plasma by the time it hit the bag. Even so, it seemed to take a very long time.

When there was nothing but glowing ash, I stopped and cast freezing instead. Then I got the last thing I'd brought — a metal canister. The ashes went inside it. I sealed it and stowed it in a saddlebag. I drank from one of the water skins I'd brought, mounted Lightning and returned to the road.

Ratboy had a substantial head start on me, but I had a few advantages he didn't. I was on horseback, knew the area, and knew him. The biggest danger was the possibility he'd found someone who'd given him a lift, or he'd used whatever money they had to buy a seat on a coach out of town. I was going to assume he hadn't done either because he'd not want to answer questions and these days almost no one was going to stop for a stranger. Oh, and he was a cheap wanker.

The next trick was to suss out which direction he may have taken. South was nothing but the coast and rat boy had never struck me as the nautical type. East and west also ran quickly into coast, as Ostwick is on a bit of a peninsula. Northeast he'd run smack into the Circle, so that left north-northwest. I knew he was also lazy and liked to use people rather than personal effort to achieve his goals, so I had a good idea where to concentrate my search.

We headed north. I figured he’d try to put some distance between himself and Ostwick at first, just in case someone discovered…the body before I did, so for a time I let Lightning set the pace. Once we reached what I judged to be the limits of rat boy’s physical endurance before his inherent laziness overrode prudence, I reined Lightning in and started looking for side roads. It was a time-consuming business, because every one I spotted had to be investigated.

The first side road just petered out ten minutes into the brush. The next led to an abandoned mill. The third ended at a heavy gate with two large, angry dogs on the other side. It was getting dark by the time I turned down the fourth side road. I had to cast light as it meandered through a wooded area, culminating in a sizeable clearing. There was a pleasant-looking, well-constructed two-storey house there. I rode up to the long front porch and secured Lightning to the railing. The front door was just slightly ajar. I debated knocking, but if he was there... I cast a _don’t notice me_ spell and entered.

Once again the place was silent. I moved quietly through the front room. It was clean but a bit disordered, the way things get when people actually live in a place. The furniture was well made, upholstered in blue with a subtle striped pattern. There were inexpensive but attractive rugs on the wood floors. They had oil lamps, but none were lit. A child’s stuffed animal lay on the floor next to an end table.

I cast a soft light as the natural light was growing dim, and spotted something familiar near the entrance to the hallway that led deeper into the house — a knapsack and travel bag I’d last seen at the inn back in Ostwick.

They were in the kitchen. It looked as if they had just eaten and were in the midst of cleaning up. The man appeared to be around my age, with longish, sandy brown hair. His clothing was simple but well made, like everything else in the house. He was sprawled on one of the chairs, half-slumped across the table. He had the distinctive scorch marks associated with electrical spells. Ratboy had always been good with electrical spells. 

The woman was on the floor near the wash basin. She was slim, athletically built, with shortish hair a shade darker than the man’s. Beyond that I couldn’t really say what her normal appearance was. Like Tasha, her throat had been viciously cut. She also had wounds on her hands and forearms; she’d tried to fight him. The front of her blouse had been ripped open to expose her breasts, apparently for no other reason than he could. I saw no sign of a child.

I checked the last few rooms on the ground floor and walked quietly up the stairs. To my right at the top was what looked like a linen closet. I turned left, starting at the end of the hallway. The first door led to what was obviously the couple’s master bedroom. Again, it was tidy with some casual disorder. The bed was made, and there was no sign anyone had been in there.

Halfway down the hall was a second door. I recast the _don’t notice me_ spell and eased it open. A child’s room. Cheerful, light-coloured walls, a dresser with toys and a few oversized books on the top, a rectangular box probably meant to hold the toys, a rather well rendered painting of kittens hung on one wall. Light so dim now I had to cast a stronger light of my own. Then I had to stand there a moment, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.

Scratch that. Trying to _accept_ what I was seeing. Lying on the floor like a discarded toy was a little girl, maybe five or six years old. She had soft brown hair and big, green eyes. On the floor next to her was a small, cheerful decorative pillow. _Kelsie_ was embroidered across it. She was naked and unmoving. I won’t say anything else about it.

Ratboy was sprawled across the child-sized bed, snoring softly. His trousers were still undone.

I upped the level of my light, cast a flashbang next to his miserable head and fired an electric bolt square at his crotch, shouting, “Wake up, Lavelle, you sick wanker!”

He leapt off the bed with an enraged shriek, staggered about for a few moments then straightened up. He saw it was me and grinned. “Well, well, so the bald cocksucker hunted me down. Here to avenge your idiot twat of a friend? Want to tell me what an incredible bastard I am first? Maybe call me twisted, though you’re a fine one to talk?”

I didn’t say a word. The whole time he’d been talking I’d been gathering my power, shaping into a force spell. I didn’t need my staff for this; I’ve never wanted to hurt anyone so badly in my life. I fired it straight at his legs and watched them shatter.

He went down with a shriek of pain. I didn’t stop, just kept hammering him with pure kinetic force until I ran out of power and had to stop to let it recharge. He was on the floor, gasping and yammering. I think I’d broken every bone in his fucking body. I looked down at him, feeling an almost clinical distance from everything including myself. His eyes were darting wildly, tears running down his face. I knew they weren’t tears of remorse. He was just in pain and afraid for his miserable life. I took a small bottle of lyrium from my pocket and drank it. Much as he deserved to suffer, I was growing weary of having to look at Gyrdon Lavelle. The lyrium would fill my reserves much more quickly so I could finish him and leave that place he’d made terrible.

I gathered my power again, shaping it with will and mind into something heavy and narrow about the size and thickness of my hand. As he tried to shriek again, I brought my hand down in a chopping motion to direct it. It nailed him point blank in the neck, but I’d miscalculated a bit and instead of snapping his spine it looked as if it had ruptured everything in the front of his throat. I watched as he tried to draw breath to scream through a ruptured windpipe, spasming as burst veins and arteries bled out. It was an ugly death. He deserved it.

I covered Kelsie with a pretty blanket I found folded in her dresser. Gyrdon Lavelle had never touched that blanket. That was important.

I walked out of the house, mounted Lightning and rode back to town. I felt numb. I dropped Lightning off at the stable, walked to the Rest and bought beer and a few bottles of hard liquor. The innkeeper started to joke, took a closer look at me and boxed my purchases without another word. I went home. I lit one of my globe lights, left the rest of the place in darkness. I drank. Some time later I’d drunk enough to get tired, so I crawled into bed and slept.


	16. The Luxury of Tears

I woke late in the afternoon because my bladder felt like it was going to burst. I used the facilities, went out long enough to drink a few cups of coffee and eat something I didn’t taste. I bought more booze. Went home. Drank. It felt like no matter how much I was drinking, I couldn’t get drunk. Sometimes scenes flickered through my mind. I saw them at a remove, as if they were being shown for someone else’s benefit.

_I was thirteen, new to the Circle. I was nothing but rage and hurt, fear and baffled grief. The blonde girl talked to me anyway. She was the only one who would. Even when I was a snot, she still talked to me. She was funny and seemed to understand and eventually I started talking too, crawling out of the depression I’d sunk into._

_Her name was Kelsie. She lived in a nice house with her nice parents and she was five or six._

_She didn’t believe I knew how to dance, so one night I dared her to accompany me down to the storage rooms. She maintained I was being silly, but she came anyway, and in the big, empty space in the centre of the largest storage room, I danced with her. She joked as we danced because she was awkward and unskilled, but I saw the delight in her eyes. No one had ever danced with her. She’d only heard stories of music and grand soirees. They’d taken her from her family when she was seven and no one had ever asked her to dance. Until we danced together._

_Kelsie was probably looking forward to being seven._

_I was in one of my frequent depressions about being trapped in the Circle. Tasha talked to me anyway. I was in no mood. She reached over, wrapped her fingers in my hair and yanked hard, telling me to stop being such a gurgut’s behind. I told her if she kept yanking my hair I was going to shave my head so she couldn’t. She dared me to. So I did._

_Her name was Kelsie and she was lying cold beneath a pretty blanket and she would never be seven._

_Her name was Tasha and I’d never forget her._

It was dark again. I lit my one light. I sat in my comfortable chair and took sips out of the bottle in my hand and felt nothing. I got up once in a while to use the facilities. That was all.

I heard a knock on the door. I said _who is it_ because that’s what you do when you hear a knock on the door. _Oliver,_ the door said. I said _it’s open._

 _I had Maferath’s own time getting away,_ he was saying as he entered. He stopped in mid-sentence and squinted at me in the darkened room. “Kai?” he said cautiously.

“Have a seat. If you’d like a drink I’m sure not all of these are empty yet.” Even though I was speaking, it seemed like it was someone else.

“Mind if I give us a little more light?” He took the chair across from me.

“Go ahead.”

He triggered a few more of my light globes; I squinted against the sudden glare. “Son, you look like shit. What’s happened? Did Lavelle get away?”

I swallowed alcohol. “He’s dead.”

Oliver gave me a sharp look and said, “Care to tell me how that happened?”

“I killed him.” I focused my eyes on him just a bit. “It occurred to me that that was the first time I killed a man, but he was no man. All I killed was a monster shaped like a man.” I thought that was very important to let him know.

He nodded and said in that same, careful tone, “Where’s Tasha?”

I shook my head no and drank more.

“Kai,” Oliver said, looking dismayed, “did he hurt her?”

“Did you know I danced with her?” I said softly. “Nobody ever had. We had to sneak past the templars in the dead of night but even if we’d gotten caught it would have been worth it.”

“Kai, do you think you can focus for me?” he leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs.

I drank more. It still wasn’t doing what I wanted it to. “She loved it. You know, I could have taken her somewhere real now, someplace _nice_ , not just some grubby storeroom. But I can’t because she’ll _never get to dance again and the girl’s NAME was KELSIE.”_ And just like that I fell to pieces. I drew myself up deeper into my chair and don’t know how long I sat there sobbing. Oliver was smart enough not to try and comfort me; he just waited quietly and when he saw I was winding down, got me a damp cloth to wipe my face with and a towel to dry it.

“Can you tell me what happened?” he asked.

I shook my head. I felt beyond drained, like I was just coming out of a long illness. “I can’t. Not now. I just want to sleep.”

“Perhaps that’s best,” he said. He stood up and made a circuit of the room, collecting bottles and arranging them neatly in one corner. I watched him dully. “Go to bed, son. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

He put out all but my one light and closed the door quietly. I got undressed, deactivated the last light and escaped into sleep.


	17. Reckoning

When Oliver knocked on my door the next afternoon I was still in bed. I wasn’t asleep, much as I would like to have been, I just felt like shite. I pulled on my trousers and opened the door. He was standing there with a container; I smelled the distinct aroma of coffee. “Maker, I think I love you. Come in,” I said. My voice sounded raspy even to me. He handed me the coffee and sat as I dropped gracelessly into my favourite chair. 

“Sorry — did I wake you?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Been awake a while. Just didn’t feel like getting up. Had to cast a healing spell on myself to get the headache under control.” I concentrated on getting coffee into myself while Oliver waited patiently. After several minutes I started feeling vaguely guilty and said, “I guess you’d like to know what happened.”

“Only if you feel up to it,” he said.

“I don’t know if I do or not. If I start losing it while I’m telling you, the answer’s probably not.”

“Take your time; I gather there’s no reason to rush.”

I took a deep breath that was only a little shaky and said, “No. There isn’t.” I stared into my coffee cup and started talking. I felt like if I looked up and saw the sympathy on his face, I wouldn’t be able to keep myself under control. As it was, I had to stop more than once before I managed to relate the whole ugly story.

I swiped at my face; despite my best efforts, I’d still started leaking tears here and there. “Then I came home and proceeded to do my best to get very drunk and stay that way. You know the rest.”

“Damn,” Oliver said quietly. “Damn it straight into the Black City. This is my fault.”

I stopped in the midst of pouring another cup to stare at him. “ _Your_ fault? How do you figure that?”

“Because I knew.” He grimaced. “I knew that poisonous little bastard was dangerous and I did nothing.”

“You knew he was a murderer?”

Oliver shook his head. “No. But we’d been hearing…disturbing things about Gyrdon for some time. We were never able to verify anything beyond his being manipulative, self-involved and highly unpleasant, but there were indications there may have been more going on.”

I looked at him disbelievingly. _You mean Tasha and Kelsie might be alive today?_ “What sort of indications?”

“That’s the problem. He was smart. There was never anything concrete we could point to. But even when he was a boy…for years the staff would occasionally find dead animals on the grounds. They had been…tortured. Mutilated. No one ever saw him, but it always seemed Gyrdon was near where each of them was found. Everything else, especially as he grew older, was always vague enough that we didn’t feel we could act on it. But when things began falling apart and people were leaving, I worried what might happen if he was able to go about unobserved. I gave strict orders that he was not allowed to leave.”

“But the way things were going…you must have considered you might not be able to enforce that,” I said.

“I did.” He rubbed his temples. “We talked of making him Tranquil nearly a year ago, but I hesitated to take such an extreme step. You understand? We had nothing but rumours and lot of people disliking or having bad feelings about him.”

I drew my legs up, curling deeper into my chair, and wished I could just go back to sleep. “I understand. So you didn’t.”

“We kept an eye on him, but even that was becoming difficult. Then Lydia was killed. He swore it was an accident and self-defence, but Petra and I decided it was the last straw. We had to do something with him to ensure everyone’s safety. So we told him we wanted to meet with him in a few days’ time. We’d met with him frequently enough over the years that we didn’t think he’d have any idea this one was going to be anything different.”

“But the wanker got wind of it or just assumed that murdering a senior enchanter was more than you’d tolerate, so he told Tasha he was ready to leave with her and rabbited,” I said.

He blew out a gust of breath. “He did. And even I never imagined it would be this bad. I should never have hesitated. We all _knew_ there was something ugly about him.”

I had nothing to add to that. Had I been in Oliver’s position, I probably would have held off on something as terrible as Tranquility too. It had turned out to be a ghastly mistake, but I couldn’t blame him. I closed my eyes against the glary afternoon light and said, “It’s not your fault. You couldn’t possibly have known.”

“Kai. May I ask a very large favour of you?”

I opened my eyes a crack. “What sort of favour?”

“Take me to that house. I…should see it firsthand.”

**=#=**

It was another summery afternoon as we rode north on the main road. The sunlight was bringing my headache back full force. The world seemed loud and intrusive and riding through it was making me feel off balance, like it was trying to force its way into me. I was terrible company, I’m afraid. I was trying unsuccessfully not to think about what lay at the end of that same trip the evening before and wishing I was back at my flat, drinking. Oliver could see I wasn’t in a state to chat and kept his own counsel. At least Lightning seemed to be enjoying himself, matching paces with Oliver’s horse.

It seemed to take both forever and no time at all to reach the fourth side road — the one that went through the woods. We reached the edge of the clearing and I reined Lightning in. The house looked the same, except when I’d left I’d closed the door and warded it to remain shut. I was noticing little details I didn’t want to notice. Flowers planted along the front in a long brick planter. A rope and board swing tied to a tree branch. A path that led around the side to somewhere in back of the house — a stable, perhaps?

“I can’t go back in there,” I told Oliver.

He nodded. “I understand. I wouldn’t ask you to.”

“I warded the door. Simple aversion spell.”

“Well done. I…shouldn’t be long.”

As he walked the rest of the way, I dismounted and sat beneath one of the trees at the edge of the clearing with my back against the trunk. I closed my eyes again and tried not to think about anything. It was cooler beneath the trees, a light breeze bringing the smell of green, growing things along with that of our nearby horses. Birds were chirping and occasionally scolding above me. Just another summer day, as if the horror in the house in the clearing never happened.

Except.

Some time later I heard one of the horses whicker and opened my eyes to see Oliver emerging from the house. He looked pale and sick and angry. He walked to the halfway point between the house and the edge of the clearing and turned. I could feel him gathering his power from where I sat.

With a despairing shout, he cast a series of fireballs straight through the front door, gathered more power and sent another stream after the first. For a few moments nothing happened, then I heard odd _whumph_ ing sounds and watched what little of the interior I could see become flame. _He must have found an accelerant_ , I thought. _Maybe the oil for the lamps?_

I don’t know how long I sat there watching what was a truly impressive exercise in magical ability as Oliver controlled the massive conflagration so it only consumed the house and the immediate area around it. A part of me thought I should help, but moving from my spot under the tree might shatter my careful bubble of detachment, so I continued to watch. Even though the wind was blowing away from us, the heat in the clearing was fast becoming uncomfortable.

Finally, sweating heavily, Oliver turned to me and said, “Kai? A little help putting this out would be appreciated.”

I shook off my inertia and joined him, casting ice until all that was left was a sodden mess of ash and amorphous lumps. Everything smelled of burnt wood and other, less identifiable materials. Thankfully, burnt meat wasn’t one of them. There was a stable and a chicken coop behind the house, both tenanted from the sounds of it. I looked askance at Oliver.

He shook his head. “Someone will be along. Either the smoke will have been noticed or they’ll be missed. If we let the animals out, it’ll be clear either one of them must have lived to do it or someone else was here. That would lead to questions we don’t need. Better to leave it.”

We mounted our horses and rode back to Ostwick in silence.

We stabled the beasts and walked. Once again I waited outside, this time for Oliver to purchase alcohol from the Rest. We walked to my flat. I locked the door and took the beer he offered with a nod of thanks. He opted for whisky. I watched him down his first drink in two swallows and pour another. He looked at me with haunted eyes. “I’ve seen many things in my day. Fade demons. More battlefields than I care to count. Darkspawn. I can honestly say the worst thing I’ve ever seen was in that house.”

I said, “Her name was Kelsie. Her parents were probably very nice people. It looked like they’d sat down and had a meal with him before he did that. I wish he was alive right now just so I could kill him again.”

“I didn’t want the authorities finding them like that when someone thought to go out to check on them. And they couldn’t find _him._ ”

I nodded. There didn’t seem to be much else to be said. We drank a lot and talked a little; I don’t really remember what about. We played a few hands of cards because it served as a distraction, and late that night Oliver went back to his inn to get some sleep. I sat up a while longer and stared out the window before sleeping too.

He came bearing coffee again late the next morning and told me he needed to get back to what remained of the circle. I understood and said as much. “Are you going to be all right?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Eventually. I don’t think I’ll ever be quite the same.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry about Tasha. She was a good woman.”

“Yes. She was.” I felt my voice try to catch as I said it.

“Where is she?”

I pointed to the metal canister I’d set on my dresser. “Right there. You want to say hello?”

“Actually, I was wondering if I could borrow her.”

I squinted at him. “May I ask why?”

“I’d rather surprise you.”

“Well… then yes. I suppose.” I couldn’t imagine what he had in mind.

He took the canister with one hand, clasped my shoulder with the other. “Kai, you did well. Andraste’s tits, you handled a horrible situation remarkably. If you need anything — even if you just need to talk — you send me a message and I’ll come. Do _not_ just shut yourself off from the world.”

“What makes you think I’d do that?”

He just looked at me until I finally sighed. “All right, yes, that is my default reaction. I won’t. I promise.”

We made plans to meet the next time he was in town and he left. I thought about going back to sleep then belatedly realized I should have been at work. So I walked there and told Aislinn I was sick. I must have looked it, because she told me to go right back home and not come back until I was healthy enough that I wouldn’t scare the customers.

It took me the rest of the week before I felt like I could talk to other people. I was having problems in that I’d be feeling fairly normal and then the smallest thing — or nothing at all — would remind me of that ghastly day and I’d choke up or feel shaky and anxious or just lose my train of thought. I kept my promise to Oliver insofar as I did join the card game at the Rest a few times — it was safe, because all I was expected to think or talk about was cards — but I spent most of my time in  my flat. I slept a lot and read a lot and tried to keep my drinking within reasonable bounds and mostly succeeded. It took me years before I could talk to anyone but Oliver about what happened, and even now only one other person knows. They’re the only ones who ever will know. I feel I owe it to Tasha to ensure no one ever thinks of Gyrdon Lavelle when they think of her. She deserves better than that.


	18. Endings

About a fortnight after…what happened, Moss returned from his trip to Antiva. He was so full of stories about that, he didn’t notice if I was a bit less communicative than I had been. I honestly welcomed his benign insensitivity. It let me practice acting normal, which was still proving to be a tricky proposition at times. He was eager to get back to our sessions in his basement, and I was happy to oblige him. It was another way to avoid too much introspection and, given his desire for controlled violence, it was providing me a safe outlet to purge some of the uglier feelings I was experiencing. If anything, he was delighted with my newfound enthusiasm, confessing he’d thought I was holding back too much before. I let him think his assumption that his absence spurred it was correct.

Things went well for nearly a month. If both of us were a little preoccupied with our own concerns, well, in some ways that had always been a defining characteristic of our relationship. 

That changed on a Thursday. We’d met after work and gone back to Moss’s place (of course). We didn’t always go to the basement, and this was one of those times. We were sitting in his living room, drinking beer and talking. The tensions in the south had amped up yet again, with Orlais in the midst of a civil war that interested Moss a lot more than me; I really didn’t care that their queen and her cousin or whatever he was were having a pissing contest that was mainly making things horrible for their citizenry. The bloody place was at the far end of the Waking Sea and I found their accent annoying. Moss was baffled by my lack of enthusiasm to dissect every little detail about it, but faced with my continued indifference, he turned to another subject that had apparently captured his interest of late: the mage-templar war.

I said something neutral about hoping it wouldn’t affect Ostwick any more than it already had, hoping he’d take my cue and move onto something else. Instead he frowned at me.

“It’s all well and good for you to sit there mouthing platitudes, Kai, but you have to realize they’re a scourge. This has only proven it beyond any doubt.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Who’s a scourge?”

“Mages, of course,” he snorted. “The Chantry was right to lock them up. Just _look_ what’s been happening since the floodgates have opened.”

“Excuse me? Moss, the _templars_ have imploded. They broke ties with the Chantry because the Chantry’s become corrupt and overstepped its bounds to the point where even _they_ want nothing more to do with it. There’s already a great deal of evidence that some templars have been routinely abusing mages in many of the Circles for _years_ , with the Chantry tacitly condoning it because they sure as fuck never tried to stop it. It’s not like they’re all innocents on the side of Andraste and all that’s good."

“I never said Templars were innocent, but by the Maker,” Moss interrupted.

I raised my hand in a _stop it_ gesture, “I wasn’t done, Moss. If you’ve been paying as much attention as you claim, you’ve seen that half the templars don’t seem to know _what_ to do and some former templars have formed murder squads purely to hunt and kill mages. There are mages misbehaving too, but they’re hardly the only ones causing this chaos.” I tried to keep my tone even and academic, even though I wanted to hit him.

“What mage apologist told you that?” He grew more animated, warming to his subject. “Kai, you don’t understand. I know you’re open-minded about people to a fault, but this is different. Mages are _vermin_. They’re unstable. Give them the chance and they’d subjugate the south just like they have in Tevinter. I mean, yes, they’re born with it so it’s not their fault, but if you ask me every last one of them should be put down the moment their magic manifests.”

“Moss, are you seriously advocating killing children?” I said quietly.

He looked at me with the kind of pitying patience people give the mentally deficient. “I know it sounds harsh, but it would be for the best. Like a disease, it’s better controlled if you can catch it and destroy it early. If that’s too much for you, then I’d at least ensure every last one of them is sterilized before they’re able to breed. If controls were properly implemented, Thedas could rid itself of them within a few generations. It’s better than a future of magical overlords killing our children to fuel their blood rituals.”

It was getting more difficult to keep my voice calm and even. “Please tell me you’re not serious. Not only are you talking genocide, but you clearly don’t understand how these things work. Perfectly non-magical parents can have a mage child, you know. And the majority of mages _never_ practice blood magic. Where the fuck did this come from, Moss?”

“Come from? It’s always been there. It’s what I deeply believe. The subject’s just never come up before between you and me.” He took an enthusiastic swig of beer and set the bottle down with a firm _clack_. "I am _dead_ serious, Kai, you need to understand — mages aren’t _like_ us. Tempted by demons, power at their fingertips that no one should be allowed to control. Remove the controls for a moment too long and you’ve got monsters and despots everywhere you turn. They’re worse than animals. _Rabid_ animals. And they should be put down like rabid animals. If anything, it would be a mercy killing. If only there were a way to detect them in the womb, we could resolve the situation before any more of them are spawned, but as it is, harsher measures need to be employed.”

“I see.” I set down my drink and stood.

His brows drew together. “Don’t tell me _you’re_ some sort of mage apologist.”

“No, Moss.” I conjured a ball of electricity, let it swirl and spark for a few moments before dismissing it. “I am a mage. And I don’t want to see you anymore. Goodbye.” I walked out of his house without another word and without looking back.

Thus ended my second relationship.

**###**

I was slightly worried Moss might try to do something after I walked out on him, but he stayed away and left me alone. Given his sentiments, perhaps he was too mortified at the thought that he’d been in an intimate relationship with a mage for months to do anything. Or he may have been legitimately afraid if he tried anything on me I’d either blast him into salad toppings or worse — tell all his friends what I am.

Once again, I escaped feeling any true melancholy about the end of a relationship. I’d never felt anything more for him than friendship in the first place. After what he’d said, all I felt was relief that I was shut of him.

A few days after I walked out on Moss, Oliver came for one of his regular visits. The Ostwick Circle was a mere shadow of its former self, but I had to give him credit. He’d held fast to his determination to at least remain on the property and maintain a neutral safe zone for mages and their few former templars alike, and damned if he hadn’t managed it. These days I was feeling a little more sympathy for those people who were too frightened, damaged or just plain tired to go blaze a brave new life for themselves. He updated me on the situation there — since the rogue templars had been driven off and the last group left to join the rebels, everyone had essentially left them alone. Someone from the Ostwick Chantry had come sniffing around about a week ago, but he and Petra had sent them packing.

I congratulated him and he nodded his thanks. Then he gave me an unreadable look and said, “May as well do this now. I’ve got something for you.”

I canted my head to one side. “Should I be worried?”

“Not at all,” he chuckled. He pulled a small box out of his pocket and handed it to me.

I glanced at him quickly then opened the box. There was a gem inside. It was about the size of a walnut, teardrop-shaped and beautifully faceted. It looked like a diamond, but when I held it up to the light, there were delicate blue veins like lyrium running through it. “This is lovely, Oliver, but…why are you giving me this? Am I to assume we’re engaged now?”

He chuckled again. “I think not.”

“Then I’m confused.”

“I have a friend who specializes in transmutation. I hope you don’t mind, Kai. That is Tasha,” he looked both proud and worried.

“Tasha?” I looked at the gem again, watched the light glint off it.

“That’s why I asked if I could borrow her ashes. I hope you agree that they’ve been turned into something beautiful.”

“How…Oliver, this is amazing. I can keep it?”

“She was your friend, Kai. I wouldn’t think of keeping it.”

I could feel myself choking up again and didn’t really care. “I- thank you, Oliver. It _is_ beautiful. Thank your friend for me too. I think Tasha would be delighted with this.”

He looked so gratified it made me smile. Oddly, it did make me feel better about everything, like one lingering piece of ugliness had been removed.

Through everything that’s happened since, I’ve always kept that gem somewhere near me. I’ve only ever shown it to one person, and tried to keep the number of people who even know it exists as close to zero as possible. Dorian knows I treasure it, but even he doesn’t know what it really is. That’s between Tasha and me.


	19. Interlude II

Somehow seven months flew by without my really noticing. I went to work even though I was starting to grow bored with it. Sometimes I joined the never-ending card game at the Rest. Ostwick remained its unfriendly self; if it weren’t for Oliver I wouldn’t have had one real friend even after all that time.

I went to visit my parents once. They were again upset with my sister, because after having attended university for a year (they’d won that argument), she’d announced she was thinking of becoming an historian and wanted to go on an archaeological dig somewhere in central Nevarra. At least that took their attention away from me and they didn’t make the mistake of suggesting I remove my magical abilities again. Still, after a few fairly pleasant hours it got strained and tense between us as we ran out of things to talk about that weren’t likely to upset anyone. We were all aware a big part of the problem was we were virtual strangers who _felt_ like we were supposed to know how to relate to one another comfortably, but knowing didn't make things any easier. They didn’t suggest I stay over and I didn’t ask if I could. Fixing things between us was going to take time.

For one week, Oliver and I went on a holiday to Markham. He insisted I couldn’t truly be a member of society until I’d visited there, seen the university and attended at least four plays and one opera. The university was huge and fascinating; I concluded a bit wistfully that I probably would have liked being a student there.  I enjoyed the plays and talked him into attending two musical concerts rather than the one opera, then he hoodwinked me into attending the opera anyway. Because I insist on wearing black, he insisted I had to accept his gift of a rich black cloak with an even richer blood-red lining to wear to his precious opera. I tried to argue, but he wouldn’t budge. I complained I felt silly, but I have to admit it looked good on me. As revenge, I insisted he wear black too instead of his customary shades of brown and blue. He also complained, but he looked quite dashing and ended up enjoying himself.

We ate at a different restaurant every night and tried at least one different pub every night as well. We stayed out too late and probably drank too much and went to every stupid touristy venue we could find. It was honestly the best time I could ever remember having.

I met an elven man named Josran at the Hound and Halla. He had short, dark hair and dark green eyes and over the course of a few months we got to talking, initially because I was one of the few people in the place who was happy to talk to him. He had a sharp mind and a dry sense of humour and moved like a dancer. As seemed to be my pattern, even though we never felt anything beyond friendliness towards each other, we drifted into a relationship of sorts. I say ‘of sorts’ because it was an odd one. We didn’t do much relationshippy stuff. We mostly went to my place, drank, joked around, played cribbage and occasionally had sex. There were many places we couldn’t go, at least not without encountering a lot of attitude, because he was an elf. Some places flat out wouldn’t let him in, and other places we walked out of because as soon as people realized we were there as equals, not master and servant, they went out of their way to make things unpleasant. It was the first time I’d really experienced even a taste of the sort of crap elves have to put up with all the time and I found it appalling.

It was Josran who broke it off with me. His friends and family had gotten wind of the fact that he’d taken up with a human and made it clear that that was not acceptable. For him, it was the final straw after all the flak we were already taking. We parted amicably, even got together once in a while after, but that was the unspectacular course of my third and final relationship in Ostwick.

Speaking of the Hound and Halla, I was there having a beer one night when who should walk in but Moss. He was accompanied by a man built like a Qunari warrior but with more hair. Moss noticed me and all the colour drained from his face. I watched with mild amusement as he said something to his friend and practically dragged him back out the door in his haste to flee. I have no idea what he thought I was going to do. 

The mage-templar war was still grinding on. From what Oliver told me, the mages and templars in Hasmal had done much as he and Petra, setting up their circle as a refuge for those who wanted nothing to do with the war. The Grey Wardens had apparently also opened their ranks to mages and templars alike, though they expected you to join the Order if you accepted their offer of refuge. Ferelden had made the surprising move of offering the rebel mages sanctuary at Redcliffe and the mages had accepted. Unfortunately, that meant the templars who had decided to devote themselves to eradicating mages knew exactly where to find them. That left the populace of Redcliffe stuck in the middle and I wondered how long that could possibly last. The Chantry was in a shambles, and while I hadn’t heard terrible things about their current Divine, who was no doubt struggling with a thankless job and had apparently even put her support behind the mages to some extent, I couldn’t say I was sorry to hear that.


	20. Proposition

The evening was unseasonably warm. I’d considered using a cooling spell, but opened my window instead. I was messing around with some spellcrafting ideas when Oliver arrived. We talked a bit about my methodology and he gave me a few hints on streamlining the process. I threw myself into my favourite chair with a sigh.

“Something the matter?” he asked.

I glared at nothing in particular. “I don’t know. I suppose not. I just…I’m bored, Oliver.”

“Bored of what?” He reached into my cooler, pulled out two beers and tossed me one.

“I don’t know. Ostwick. My job. Everything. I can’t practice magic properly. There doesn’t seem to be anywhere else to go because every idiot in southern Thedas is at war about _something_. Everyone in Ostwick is an unfriendly twat, present company excluded. I’m tired of writing mostly the same letters and reports for mostly the same people. You know, of all the things I pictured about living in the real world when I was locked up, being bored wasn’t one of them.”

He laughed. “My sympathies. I’m sure even Andraste herself was bored on occasion.”

“That observation does not help, Oliver. I’m feel like I’m just…spinning my wheels here. I’m not _accomplishing_ anything. I'm going to be thirty-four in a few months, for fucks sake." 

"Well, in that advanced state of decrepitude, you may as well just pull a blanket over your head and wait for the cold hand of the reaper," Oliver said solemnly.

"All right, that was a little histrionic," I admitted, "But I do not want to stay in Ostwick for the rest of my life. I don’t even want to stay here for the rest of the year. As long as I do I’ll just… exist. It ends up being not too damned different from being stuck in the circle except I’ve nothing but myself and inertia to blame. You know?”

He raised an eyebrow. “What _do_ you want to do?”

I exhaled loudly. “That’s the thing: I don’t _know_. I want to be able to actually _be_ a mage, I know that. I worked my arse off to get this good, and all I’ve been doing for two years is hiding what I am. I’m bloody sick of it. I tell you, I’m ready to move to bloody Tevinter.”

He smiled. “No need to go off the deep end. There _are_ some venues where your talents would be appreciated.”

“You know, I’ve seriously been toying with the idea of becoming a mercenary,” I confessed. “People may hate us most of the time, but they sure as fuck want us when they’re staging their stupid little wars or need protection.”

“I thought you wanted nothing to do with the fighting.”

“I don’t. But I don’t have to hire out as a fighter. Lots of people just want escorts to get _through_ war zones. I rather like the sound of that. I don’t mind combat per se, I’m just not interested in fighting other people’s battles while they sit in their high towers and discuss _policy_.”

He grunted. “I can’t argue with you, but it’s a rough life, Kai.” He drummed his fingers on the side of his bottle as he chewed at his lower lip. I was about to ask him what was demanding such deep thought when he spoke again. “What if I could offer you something that wouldn’t be a career, but would be a distraction?”

“I will happily take distraction as a short-term solution,” I said. “Anything’s better than just faffing about here doing the same thing day after week after month. What sort of distraction are we talking about?”

“It involves quite a bit of travel.”

I waited for him to expand on that. “And? Don’t go all cryptic on me, Oliver. _You_ brought it up.”

“All right. The Chantry-”

“The _Chantry_?” I interrupted, “Fuck that. I want nothing to do with them.”

“Kai. Kindly let me finish,” he said with a stern glare. “If you prefer, _Divine Justinia_ is calling a peace summit. She wants to broker an end to this nonsense between the mages and the templars. They’ve put a call out to all the circles asking for representatives to join the mage’s delegation. It would a simple matter to include you in that.”

I wrinkled my nose at him. “But I’m not part of the Circle. Nor would I pretend to be just to alleviate my boredom.”

He rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t have to claim to be representing the Circle. You’d be there as a mage, as my envoy, and as a member of the ruling nobility of Ostwick.”

I snorted. “How do you figure that last? They took my title and rights from me twenty years ago, remember?”

“Kai, really. Are you purposefully being obtuse? Your parents never denied or disowned you. You’re still a Trevelyan and that still holds weight.”

I swallowed some beer and smiled at him. “Sorry. I’m just feeling cross about everything. But honestly, Oliver, I'm no diplomat. I've not even been involved in the war, the Circles… nothing. What would I be expected to do there?”

“Observe and report, I imagine. I’m sure the politicians and diplomats have already worked out all their arguments. But it would be a change of pace for you.”

“How much traveling are we talking about?” I had to admit I was a little interested, if for no other reason than to get away from Ostwick for a bit.

“It’s at a place called the Temple of Sacred Ashes in the Frostback Mountains.”

“The Frostbacks? Isn’t everything between here and there a bloody war zone? Not to mention, who holds a major peace summit in the middle of nowhere in the fucking _mountains_?”

Oliver grinned. “I don’t know, seems rather appropriate to me: Mountain? Summit?”

I groaned.

“As for the first part of your question,” he continued, “You’d sail most of the way there. You’d only be going overland from Jader.”

“Wherever that is,” I said.

“They’ve also guaranteed protection to all delegates. It would look bad if people got killed on the way there.”

“I’ve never sailed before,” I mused. “Andraste’s balls, I’ve never been outside of _Ostwick_ except for our trip to Markham. I don't count anything when I was a kid.”

“Think about it,” he said. “I don’t need an answer right away, but I do need to let them know by the end of the week.”

**=#=**

I thought about it. The summit itself didn’t sound particularly exciting — probably a lot of political posturing on both sides while the real deals were brokered in back rooms and over drinks — but it _would_ be different from anything I’d ever done, and I wouldn’t have to pretend not to be a mage. That alone made it very tempting.

Two days later I told myself I was still thinking about it, but I asked Aislinn if I could take some time off work. Maybe up to a month. I was a bit surprised when she agreed, and a bit nonplussed when she asked me if I even wanted to come back. She’d noticed I was getting restive. I admitted I didn’t know. She then asked me if I’d be willing to train someone to take my place, with the understanding that I could come back if I really wanted to. I agreed; I think we both knew my career as a scrivener was at an end.

Two days after that, Oliver was back in town. I asked him a few more questions, including when this thing was being held. I’d have a month before I’d have to depart; that was plenty of time to get my replacement trained. I don’t think either of us was surprised when I agreed to go.

Because I didn’t know how long I was going to be gone or what I was going to do when I got back, I decided to give up my flat. In the days leading up to my departure, I arranged with my parents to store my things at their place (they had more than enough room), sold what I didn’t want, and packed the rest in a new traveling bag I purchased for the occasion. I kept Tasha’s gem in one of my pockets, convinced that if I left it anywhere else someone would steal it.

I said goodbye to Aislinn, who gave me a traveling inkwell and pen set along with my final pay. Later, I oversaw the delivery of my things to my parents' place, promising them I'd visit when I got back and tell them all about my trip and what I intended to do next.

The following night I ran into Josran at the Hound and Halla and told him I was leaving for a time. I ended up spending the night at his place rather than the inn I'd originally planned on. It was a pleasant way to wrap things up, as was saying goodbye the next morning. I had a moment of regret that our relationship hadn’t worked out, but the regret was neither deep nor enduring. I was beginning to think I simply wasn’t destined to have one of those deeply emotional, true love sorts of relationships you always hear about. I’d never met one man that bowled me over like that. I considered the possibility that I was missing some key emotional element in my personality, but in the absence of any way to test the theory, I turned my attention to more immediate concerns. I still had to go to the bank and the clothiers, and had a nagging feeling there was something important I must be forgetting because things were going too smoothly.

As I ate dinner the next evening, I realized there was no one else in Ostwick I needed or wanted to say goodbye to. It made me doubly glad I was doing _something_ to make changes in my life, even though the trip was just a temporary thing.

My final day in Ostwick was bright and sunny. I had to get up earlier than usual, which did not please me. Coffee helped improve my mood, as did strapping my staff into its harness on the back of my coat. The latter was a purely juvenile sort of pleasure in which I imagined people who'd become familiar with me as the bald guy who wears all black suddenly realizing _Maker's breath, this whole time he was a mage!_ On occasion it takes very little to amuse me.

I stopped by the stables to say goodbye to Lightning (who I’d grown quite fond of) and let them know he was to go back to my parents’ place. 

I met Oliver at the Rest. "Said your goodbyes, then?" he asked.

I snorted. "I suppose you could say that. I said goodbye to my horse. Do you realize there's not one person I'm sufficiently well acquainted with to warrant an actual goodbye?"

He grinned. "Ah, Ostwick — you'll live in our hearts and minds forever, even though you couldn't give a damn."

Then Oliver accompanied me to the port, where I got my first look at the other Ostwick delegates, some of whom I knew from the Circle. Of those, one gave me a small smile and wave; the other two gave me dirty looks. "Well, this is going to be fun," I deadpanned. "I suppose they don't think I should be here."

"Fuck 'em," Oliver said with a sunny smile. "You're not here as a Circle mage. You're a neutral representative of myself and Ostwick. You can handle a couple of snippy mages."

"You're right. Wankers." I smiled back. "Well…I suppose I should join my esteemed colleagues. We have _so_ much to talk about."

"Some of them may surprise you. You're not the only one who left, you know. You were just the first."

"You mean not all these others are still in Circles?" I don't know why I was surprised. Even though I knew the circles were all but gone, I kept picturing most mages as still being in them. Probably because I hadn't met any others in Ostwick aside from…yeah. That and a little unconscious arrogance, if I'm to be honest, because I _was_ the first out of Ostwick.

"These days most of them aren't," Oliver confirmed. "You may find you have more in common with them than you think."

"I hope so, given the amount of time we'll be traveling together. Then I get to attend _meetings_!"

He laughed and said, “Remember to take notes. I seem to recall you were always a bit haphazard about that.”

“I will note everything. Especially the pointless political arguments.”

“There is such a thing as too much diligence,” he said gravely. “Try not to get seasick or bored and I’ll see you soon.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be staying in Ostwick, you know.”

“I’m very aware of that. I expect you to at least come back long enough to tell me what you’ve decided.”

“I’ll do that,” I promised. “After all, I have to regale _someone_ with all my exciting summit tales.”

“Just remember, when it comes to excitement, you really can have too much of a good thing,” Oliver admonished me.

“I’ll take my chances,” I grinned. “It’s got to be better than stagnation.”

 “Still, be careful, Kai.”

“I will. At least on the way there and back. I don’t imagine I’ll have to worry about anything more than sharply-worded rhetoric and incipient ennui at the summit itself, unless the mages and templars decide to go at each other’s throats again.”

We shook hands and I joined my fellow delegates on the ship. I didn't get seasick and I didn't get bored. I also didn’t see Oliver or Ostwick again for a very long time, but that's a lengthy story that begins at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. As this epic concerned my mostly unspectacular years in Ostwick, perhaps I should just close it with a picture of a ship sailing west on the Waking Sea, racing away from the friendliest unfriendly city in Thedas towards an unimaginable future…

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Your comments, kudos, bookmarks, etc. are sincerely appreciated.
> 
>  _[In the Flat Field](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_llVRPSCFbA)_ is a (brilliant) song by Bauhaus. The chapter came first, but the title was too fitting to pass up.
> 
> Curious what Kai looks like? Pictures are viewable [here](https://imgur.com/a/gZFkd)


End file.
